Author 









PZ 3 
! .H2126 
Fo 

J 

COPY 1 



1 



^ ■ 

I 


X' • ' 
. •' 1 


■ 

/ ' 

►*Nt 






4 


r. 


\ 


> ' 


* >- 

• • ' • _ 


>■ 


'h 


A_ 


• • 


• t 


* 


■> 



t 










\ 

k . 




<• 



9 





4 « 





» 






« 



t 


s 


t 

A 


» “ 



* 




4 





t 


t ( 




I X 


^ * I 




^ - 


- • 

• • J •- 


. X, , -V 


•- • »• 


H'S 


• ^ 


. ^ * 


s. 




o:: 


. - 1 


j- 




♦ • 

. ✓ 


, -if ■ 

H*i f 









i.i. ‘-^•* •* 

^ • 


n * < 


• * ^ ^ • • A- 


* 

• * 

. VT^’‘ * ^ 

' - .>? • 


/,- ; P 

* « I ' 


i^- 

V • 

■ ■< 


•■ L ♦ V '• 4 






•^1 • 




Sp 




i % 


A 


I 


/, 


I 






'A 


I 


y - % 

• • » • 



» 


I 




» 


I 

* I • 

• 

> « . 

k - 

t 


I 



^ »• 


•% 



1 . 


I 








STORIES or 


FORT FISHER 


A STORY OF THE GREAT BOMBARDMENT 


By Maj. A. F. GRANT, 


Copyrighted, 1883. 

Entered at the. post-office, N. Y., as second cla<;s matter. 


TO • CENTS JEHUD 



Vol. I. POCKET EDITION. No. 10. 




■vMui 


FORT FISHER; 


OR, 


The Thunder of Siege Guns. 


-r — 

.1/ "’V. 

A STORY OF THE GREAT BOMBARDMENT, 


y 


BY MAJOR A. F. GRANT. 




~n^i' ■ 


\ No 
NEW YOR^ c/> 

NOVELIST PUBLISfflije CO., 
Nos. 18 AND 20 Rose Street, 

1888. 





Copyrighted 1883, by The Novedist Publishing Co, 



f 


FORT FISHER. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE SPY IN THE SWAMP. 

One afternoon in December, 1864, a man dressed in citizens’ 
clothes entered Fort Fisher on the Cape Fear peninsula, and in- 
quired for General Whiting, the commander of the Confederate 
forces there. 

“ You can’t see the general now,” said the officer of the day. “ If 
you will deliver your message to me ” 

“I must see General Whiting in person,” was the interruption. 
‘‘My message is too important to be intrusted to anyone. Tell him 
that Dick Whitney is here.” 

“It will do no good, I tell you,” snapped the officer, nettled at 
the man’s refusal to part with his message. “ If you h*ave made the 
astounding discovery that the Yankees are getting ready to give us 
a brush, you need not communicate it, for General Whiting is in 
possession of that information.” 

“You can’t worm my business from me, captain,” laughed Whit- 
ney. “ If I am not to see the general now, I vill wait in the fort 
till I can. He is never too busy to see Dick Whitney, as his officers 
‘would discover if my name was but taken to him. But let it go. 
I’ll hang around until 1 get a glimpse of the general, then I’ll 
pounce down upon him like a hawk on a partridge.” 

Without more ado the man so anxious to communicate with 
General Whiting turned away and began to amuse himself among 
the heavy guns that grinned between the traverses. 

in person Dick Whitney was not very tall, but he possessed a 
frame of iron, a hard bronzed face, and a pair of piercing black 
eyes which could gleam with cruelty or sparkle with merriment at 
the will of their possessor. 

He was known over the whole peninsula as an uncompromising 
Confederate, and a man who could ingratiate himself into any- 
body’s favor. 

For reasons best known to himself, Dick Whitney had never eu- 


4 


FORT FISHER. 


tered the rebel service, aud the numerous conscriptions of the war 
had never affected him. 

He lived alone some miles north of Fort Fisher, which was situ- 
ated near the southern extremity of the peninsula, but it was said 
that the young girl who sometimes visited Dick from the main- 
land was nearer to him than the second cousin he claimed her 
to be. 

Whitney, at the time our story opens, was forty years old, al- 
though even a close observer would have pronounced him not over 
thirty-five. 

More than once, while he strolled among the strong defences of 
Fort Fisher that December afternoon, he cast anxious glances to- 
ward the west, and noted, with much anxiety, the position of the 
sun. 

“The general’s got a heap of important business just now,” he 
murmured, testily. “ I had a notion to introduce that impudent 
oflaoer to Dick Whitney’s fist. I know him better than he knows 
me, and Ina knows him, too. Yes, the Yankees are going to try to 
take this fort so as to give them a safe passage up the Wilmington, 
and they will get a foothold on the peninsula if the fellow I saw 
this morning gets in his work.” 

At that moment a young orderly was seen approaching Whitney, 
who was resting himself by leaning against a cannon. 

As the North Carolinian saw the soldier his countenance bright- 
ened, and he straightened up and waited for him. 

“ Are you the man who wanted to see the general awhile ago ?” 
asked the soldier, halting before Whitney. 

“ I’m the very Tar-heel,” was the smiling reply. “ So the general 
is ready for me, hey?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And I’m ready to see him.” 

Whitney’s gait proclaimed his eagerness, and a few rapid strides 
carried him into the presence of the commander of Fort Fisher. 

“Oh, it’s, you, is it, Whitney?” exclaimed General Whiting, 
shaking hands cordially with his visitor. “ Why didn’t you come 
right in awhile ago?” 

“ Simply because I ran afoul of Captain Davis.” 

“And you found him an escarpment you couldn’t scale, eh, 
Dick ?” 

“I didn’t charge the works, general. If I had I might have sent 
the captain to the surgeon for repairs. There’s no love between 
Captain Davis and Dick Whitney. But I’m here with some news 
which I think important.” 

“ News about the threatened invasion?” 

“ Perhaps, general, there’s a Yankee spy in the swamp not far 
from my house.” 

General Whiting started, but quickly smiled. 


FORT FISHER. 5 

“ He’s in a trap, then. But how do you know he’s a Yankee 
spy?” 

“I watched him an hour this morning, and Ina saw him, too. 
He was seen to take some papers from his pocket and make draw- 
ings of some kind upon them. He was doing some work for 
General Butler, who is coming to give us a tussle on the peninsula. 
I am certain of this.” 

“What became of the spy after he finished the work you saw 
him at ?” asked Whiting. 

“ He replaced the papers in his bosom and walked quietly away.” 

“ Are you certain he did not see you ?” 

“I’m sure of that. He has been having his own way in the 
swamp for. Heaven knows how lobg.” 

“ I’ll put an end to his good time,” said Whiting, firmly. “ You 
know the intricacies of the swamp, Whitney ?” 

“Well, I ought to, seeing that I was born on this Tar-heel penin- 
sula. If there’s a path up yonder I don’t know, I’ll emigrate to 
other shores.” 

“ Then I will appoint you to the command of the party I shall 
select to hunt the Yankee spy down. I know you will do your 
duty, Whitney. See to it that he is not killed, for I want to hang 
the blue-coated scamp. Can the swamp be surrounded?” 

“Not well. It contains thousands of acres, but don’t let that 
trouble you. I can catch the Yankee spy, if you give me a dozen 
true Tar-heelers.” 

“You can have fifty by asking for them,” exclaimed Whiting. 
“No Yankee spy can fool with me and go unhung. You spoke of 
your cousin awhile ago. Is she visiting you again ?” 

“ She came down from Wilmington last week, and will not go 
back until after the fight.” 

“ If she wants to see it, fetch her down here, Whitney. I can 
give her safe quarters, and she shall see Picayune Butler leave the 
peninsula in a hurry. She isn’t afraid of a little war, is she ?” 

“Ina afraid of war?” laughed Whitney. “ Well, I reckon she’s 
got grit enough to lead a charge. May b® I will bring her down, 
general. She likes excitement, and the kind you’re looking for 
will just suit her.” 

“Bring her down, then, by all means. Now, sir, you shall have 
the men to catch the Yankee spy. When will you report tome 
with him, Dick ?’’ 

“When I have caught him,” was the reply. “These Yankees 
are uncommon cute, general. This one is loose in a big Carolina 
swamp, and he may give me a little trouble, but I’ll get him, or 
my name’s not Dick Whitney.” 

General Whiting rose and left his quarters, followed by his 
visitor, whose eyes fairly danced at the thought of oRtching the 
Union spy who had reached the peninsula in advance of the ex- 
pedition then on its way to subdue Fort Fisher. 


6 


TOUT FISHBP. 


Twenty minutes later a dozen resolute Confederate soldiers, 
headed by a sergeant, were turned over to Whitney and place(^ 
under his leadership. 

General Whiting told the men in person that they were to obey 
the Carolinian in every particular, and that they were expected 
to run the Yankee spy to earth as speedily as possible. 

The men replied that they would carry out their instructions to 
the letter, and Whiting turned to Whitney with a smile. 

“ How do you like my picking ?” he asked. 

“I’m satisfied,’’ was the quick response. “ Those fellows already 
look like spy catchers. I feel the Yank in my clutches now. He 
will never get away. There’s one thing I overlooked, general. If 
the Tank should resist capture, what then?’’ 

“ If he resists desperately— desperately, I say, Dick— then, 
wound him in a manner that will make certain his capture. Un- 
der no circumstances is he to be killed. These are my orders. 
You will communicate them to your men.’’ 

“Yes, sir. My opinion is that the spy will resist desperately. I 
saw his eye, and he is one of those fellows who mean business.’’ 

“Do your duty— that’s all I ask,’’ said Whiting. “Now, if you 
expect to get home before night, it seems to me that you ought to 
be starting.’’ 

“I’m off right away.’’ 

And Dick Whiting walked toward the detail awaiting his 
orders. 

He spoke to the sergeant, who gave the command to march, and 
General Whiting saw the little squad leave the fort. 

I here was another man who also watched the departure, but 
with thoughts different from those that filled the general’s mind. 

This man was Captain Davis, the officer of the day, and the per- 
son who, an hour or so before, had refused to admit Whitney to 
the commandant’s presence. 

He was a handsome fellow of thirty-two, tall, well built, and 
with a reputation for bravery which had made him well known 
throughout the Confederate army. 

“Going to catch a Yankee spy, eh?’’ fell from his lips, as he 
watched the detail file out of the fort. “ That’s what brought you 
to us, I suppose, Dick Whitney. You’ve always got something on 
your string. Too cowardly to enter the army, you stick at home 
and make a show of loyalty with expeditions like this. I don’t 
like you and I never will, but there’s a sweet creature, who, un- 
fortunately, bears your name, for whom I would run a gantlet of 
fire. Ina Whitney, when we have given Butler a good drubbing. 
I’ll go to Wilmington and press my suit again.’’ 

If Duke Davis had known that at that very moment the beauti- 
ful object ot his regard was nearer Fort Fisher than Wilmington, 
he would have curtailed his expected journey by fifteen miles. 

“ Go ^nd catch tb© Yankee spy, Dick Whitney,’’ he growled 


FORT FISHES. 


7 


again. “ But, by Heaven ! I hope he’ll give you your eternal 
quietus in the shape of a bullet. Yankee spies don’t surrender at 
the drst summons. If this expedition deprives Ina of a cousin, I 
shall not be chief mourner. It’ll be sugar in my whisky.” 


CHAPTER II. 

THE SPY FOUND 

To be precise in our dates, the reader needs to be informed per- 
haps that the incidents recorded in the foregoing chapter trans- 
pired on the afternoon of December 14, 1864. 

In less than two days the immense armada designed by Grant for 
the capture of Wilmington was expected off the coast, but Dick 
Whitney hoped to rescue the Yankee spy before its arrival, and 
thus prevent him from furnishing any information to the leaders 
of the Federal expedition. 

Fort Fisher, hereafter to be described, occupied the southern- 
most extremity of the narrow neck of land which branches out 
from the North Carolina coast and separates Cape Fear River from 
the Atlantic. 

For five miles north of the fort, the low and sandy peninsula 
does not rise more than fifteen feet above high tide; the interior 
abounds in great fresh water, swamps which are heavily wooded 
and next to impassible. 

In the depths of these patches the gloom of twilight prevails at 
noonday, and the hiss of the snake is heard from morn till night. 

Near the edge of one of these swamps, but on firm ground, stood 
Dick Whitney’s home. 

The building was a wooden, one story affair, containing three 
rooms, and by no means a pretentious residence, yet withal quite 
good enough for the Confederate. 

The house occupied the summit of a sandy knoll, and command- 
ed from its front door a view not very inviting, for it looked upon 
the swamp ; a queer place the reader will say for a fair young girl, 
used to the gaities of a city like Wilmington. 

Perhaps Ina Whitney loved the society of her cousin, for certain 
it was that she seemed contented while she sojourned in the penin- 
sular home, and the simple country folk had many stories to tell 
of her residence among them. 

Dick Whitney guided the sergeant and his men straight to his 
house, where he expected to find Ina waiting for him, but to his 
disappointment he found the place empty. 

‘‘ Mebbe she’s out in the swamp, keeping an eye on the Yank,” 
said Dick when he had searched the premises without finding the 
girl. ‘‘I told her it wouldn’t do ‘to let the Lincoln bluecoat get 
clean away, and she agreed with me. However, it’s not the time o’ 
day for a girl to be nosing round b swamp like that out there, still 
Ina doesn’t know what fear is. She’s a Whitney.” 


8 


FORT FISHER. 


Dick spoke the last sentence in an outburst of pride, which made 
the soldiers eager to encounter the young girl praised so well. 

By the time the spy-hunters reached the house the sun had al- 
most gained the western horizon, and the shadow of the house on 
the sand hill rivaled those to be found in the swamp. 

“We have to work, boys,” continued Whitney. “When Ben 
Butler comes he must not find his spy here with a budget of news. 
We must begin the hunt at once. I know every foot of land and 
water yonder, and if I can’t find the prowling Yank, he ain’t to be 
found at all— that’s all.” 

“We are under your orders,” said the sergeant, addressing Dick. 
“ If you say hunt the Yankee to-night, hunt it is.” 

Without more ado Whitney started off toward the swamp, which 
was not more than half a mile from his house. 

The soldiers followed him eagerly, and he led them into the 
swamp, which was already dark and gloomy with the shadows of 
evening. 

The ground was not very firm, and here and there the narrow 
paths seemed to si’ \ under the weight of the soldiers ; but Whit- 
ney, who knew the place well, went fearlessly on like a confident 
4:railer. 

“ There’s a piece of fir.m, hard ground some distance ahead,” he 
said over his shoulder to the sergeant, who was close behind him. 
“There is where I saw the Yankee last, and there’s where we’ll be 
likely to find him.’’ 

The footing of the soldiers grew less and less secure, and the 
shadows grew darker than ever, until the Confederates cast mad- 
dened glances at the man who was leading them on, still on. 

Eagerness kindled Whitney’s eyes as he advanced, while disgust 
and fear began to light up those of his companions. 

“There’s no firm ground in this infernal swamp,” openly growled 
the sergeant at last. 

“ I tell you there is,” snapped Whitney. “ Haven’t I traveled 
these diggings at all hours ? If you don’t want to follow me, go 
back. By heavens! Dick Whitney can catch the Yankee spy him- 
self.” 

These words put a stop to the signs of insubordination for 
awhile, and the little band pushed on a few moments longer. 

“Hist!” suddenly whispered Whitney, and the soldiers, glad to 
halt, stood still. “ It wasn’t the hiss of a snake that I heard, but a 
human voice.” 

Every ear was strained to catch the slightest sound, and for some 
moments the men, huddled in a group, held their breath and 
stilled, as it were, their beating hearts. 

“ I can’t be fooled,” said Dick Whitney. “ That infernal Yankee 
spy was just ahead when I halted you, sergeant. He’s there yet.” 

“Then let’s get him at once. My men are at your back, Dick, 
Our orders are to capture the Yank.” 


F#RT FISHER. 


& 

“ I know that. You and I will crawl ahead. Mebbe we can sur- 
prise the spy. I can still see thirty or forty feet before me, but 
mebbe it’s because I’m used to swamps after night.” 

“ Move on, then. I’m at your heels.” 

Whitney was about to advance again when a voice was heard 
that startled all. 

‘‘Nothing can save the Confederacy. It may hold out a few 
months longer, but it’s doom is sealed. Fort Fisher will fall when 
the bluecoats come, and the stars and stripes will again wave over 
Wilmington.” 

“Do you really think so?” asked a female voice, that sent a thrill 
to Dick Whitney’s heart. 

“ I know it,” was the positive rejoinder. “ It is no guess work 
with me. The end of the rebellion is nearer than you think. When 
it comes I hope to have the pleasure of witnessing it.” 

“ If they find you here you will not,” was the reply. “ They will 
hunt you to-morrow. 

“ To-night, may be ; but what do I care? I have a duty to per- 
form, and I am going to perform it.” 

“ I’ll be hanged if you shall !” exclaimed Dick Whitney, leaping 
forward, revolver in hand, and with the sergeant and the soldiers 
at his back. “Surrender, you Yankee dog! or die in your tracks!’ 

There was a woman’s startled cry, a man’s oath of defiance, and 
two figures were seen to separate in the uncertain light. 

“Aren’t you going to surrender? ’ continued Whitney, aiming at 
one of the figures. “We know who you are, and General Whiting 
wants you.” 

“I never surrender!” And all at at once the figure covered by 
more than one weapon halted and faced the Confederates. “I 
don’t recognize the right of any rebel to stop me. Stand where 
you are. This is a game at which more than one person can play. 
If you advance another step I will kill the foremost man.” 

The menace that accompanied the threat was the two revolvers 
which the speaker had thrust forward. 

Dick Whitney involuntarily recoiled a step. 

The stern voice in which the words just heard had been spoken 
told him and his companions that the Yankee spy was a man not 
to be trifled with. 

All the men now stood on the “firm ground ” which Whitney 
had been eager to reach. 

Their footing was now secure, and were it not tor the menace of 
the spy’s revolvers the men would have felt at their ease. 

“I’m going to bid you good-night,” the hunted man suddenly 
resumed. “ It might not be safe for you to follow me.” 

“ We will, by Jupiter !” grated Dick Whitney. “There isn't a 
hiding place in this neck o’ land for the likes o’ you.” 

The answer was a keen, tantalizing laugh, and the revolvers sud- 
denly fell, for the hunted Yankee sprung away. 


10 


FORT FISHER. 


“ Fire!” shouted Whitney in his rage, and crack, crack went re- 
volvers and muskets, awakening the echoes of the Carolinian 
swamp. 

But the daring spy was not seen to fall, although the soldiers 
shot to kill, and when Dick had pursued him some yards, he 
stopped with a bitter curse of rage and chagrin. 

“ Hang me if he didn’t get away,” he growled. “ The next time 
we’ll take daylight for it and end the whole affair in three hours. 
He knows this swamp pretty well ; but, as I told him, there isn’t a 
safe spot in it for him. Back to my house. I don’t like to say the 
word, sergeant, but we can do nothing here now. In twenty min- 
utes you won’t be able to see your hands before your face. We’re 
neither owls nor tigers, so we’ve got to go back.” 

The soldiers were not loth to retrace their steps, a task not easy 
of accomplishment. 

If Dick had not been with them they. North Carolinians though 
they were, would have given up all hopes of finding the cabin on 
the sandy knoll that night; but the guide was equal to the emer- 
gency. 

Placing himself at their head, he led them back over the ground 
they had traversed, and at last they reached the edge of the 
swamp. 

During the backward journey Dick had not said one word about 
the spy’s companion, whose voice had been heard by all. 

He was moody and silent, and his brow at times grew as dark as 
a thundercloud. 

He led the soldiers straight to his house, the front door of which 
stood open, and he was about to dash across the threshold when a 
temale figure approached upon it. 

“You’re back, are you?” he exclaimed, fixing his eyes on the 
person whose loveliness was apparent, despite the shadows that 
darkened the scene. “Don’t you know that I heard you talking 
in the swamp with the accursed Yankee spy? Girl, you’ve be- 
trayed the Confederacy. You’ve a Yankee lover in spite of all my 
training, in spite of the blood in your veins. Look me in the eye,” 
and he clutched her arm and drew her rudely from the house. “ If 
you blanch and lie to me, Ina Whitney, I’ll still your tongue for- 
ever. Who is the man in the swamp, and what were you doing 
with him ? We know him for a Yankee spy who Whiting is going 
to hang before Butler comes; but what’shis name?” 

Dick Whitney’s eyes blazed like mad stars, and his bronze hand 
seemed to crush the girl’s arm. 

“ Answer me, Ina. Have you deserted the Confederacy ? Is that 
Yankee spy your lover?” 

The girl seemed to increase an inch in stature ere she spoke. 

“Who that man out yonder is, find out for yourself,” she ex- 
claimed, in tones full of resolution. “I shall not betray him. As 


B’ORT PTSHEI^. 


11 

for deserting the Confederacy, let me answer you all by showing 
you my flag!” 

With the last word the girl’s left hand left her side, and the next 
moment she drew a small flag from her bosom. 

Dick Whitney and his men started back with exclamations of 
astonishment. 

It was the stars and stripes ! 

CHAPTER III. 

TURNING UPON HIS FOES. 

Ina’s sudden confession of her loyalty to the old flag was enough 
to overturn Dick Whitney’s equanimity. 

What ! that fair girl, one of the reigning beauties of Wilmington, 
true to the Union? 

Had she deceived him all the time, and when he believed her de- 
voted to the Confederacy, had she carried the stars and stripes 
hidden in her bosom ? 

A bombshell falling at his feet from among the stars overhead 
would not have astonished him more than this discovery had done. 

For several minutes Ina stood proudly before the surprised rebels 
with the flag of the government they hated in her hand. 

It was the triumph of loyalty over rebellion. 

” Ina, you are mad!” suddenly cried Whitney. ‘‘That flag is the 
one we all hate. It cannot be the one you serve. Give it to me 
and let me tear it up.” 

‘‘ It is my flag and I will not surrender it,” was the calm and 
resolute response. 

‘‘Then the Yankee spy is your lover. Now, by the eternal heav- 
ens ! he shall hang !” 

The flush that stole across the girl’s face at the rebel’s assertion 
gave way for a flash of indignation before he closed. 

“ Remember that he is not yet captured,” she said, in a tantaliz- 
ing tone. 

“ What ! do you think he will live to join Butler?” 

‘‘ We will see.” 

“Girl, this is treason against the South, treason of the rankest 
kind,” roared Dick Whitney. “ After what you have said, dare 
you disclose the name of the Yankee spy ?” 

“ Men call him Hilton,” she said. 

“Harry Hilton ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I know him,” and Whitney whirled upon his gray-coated fol- 
lowers. 

“ Boys, when the war broke out that young Yankee was in Wil- 
mington. He used to come|down here and roam the peninsula for 
pastime, he said. One night he said a little too much up in the 
city, and the people gave him ten minutes to get out of town. I 


FORT FISHER. 


12 

remember him and the circumstance well, but since that night I 
have not thought of it. Now he is back here, this same audacious 
Hilton, a full-fledged Yankee spy. He knows the Neck well, for 
he has been all over it. Grant couldn’t have sent a better man 
here for information. But we’ll hunt him down. Ina, your course 
outs me to the quick. You are the only Whitney in the South who 
loves the flag you hold in your hand. Put up the infernal rag, or 
give it to me and hereafter be a woman.” 

Instead of surrendering the miniature stars and stripes, Ina Whit- 
ney recoiled a step, and quietly put it beyond reach of the men 
who longed to tear it to pieces. 

Then stepping back into the house, she withdrew triumphant 
from the scene of action, leaving Whitney and his friends in the 
moonlight before the door. 

“ I’ll tame her, boys,” grated Dick, grinding his teeth. “She’s 
the last person on earth I thought would turn against the South. 
She must have met that Yankee spy when he was here before, but 
I don’t care when or where she met him. I’ll get even with him 
all the same. Mebbe she’s my cousin and mebbe she isn’t, but 
what of that ? My duty is to find Harry Hilton and to see him 
stretch hemp, and then to bring that foolish girl down a peg or 
two. I guess Dick Whitney of the Neck is a man for the hour. If 
you find he isn’t, boys, just give him a dose of lead.” 

“ She’s confounded pretty, that’s what she is,” said the sergeant, 
who was not a bad looking man himself. 

“I should remark,” responded Dick. “That girl could have 
roped in a Confederate major-general, but she gave him the cold 
shoulder. She’s had more chances than any girl in Wilmington, 
but she must throw ’em all away for a mean Yankee spy. It’s too 
bad. It makes my blood boil. By my soul! if that swamp would 
burn. I'd roast him alive!” 

The flashings of the rebel’s eyes were terrible to see. 

When anger took full possession of Dick Whitney he was any- 
thing but a handsome man, and woe to the hated enemy who fell 
into his hands. 

After awhile, however, his passion cooled a little and he led the 
dozen Confederates from the house. 

“The swamp’s got to be watched a little bit,” he said to them. 
“ My opinion is that the Yank will leave it to-night to see whether 
I raise a rumpus with the girl. He’s a young chicken, but full of 
grit. Didn’t I see him face a Wilmington mob once, and throw his 
Yankee sentiments right into its face ? There’s no discount on 
Harry Hilton’s courage, if I do say it myself, and 1 don’t like a hair 
on his head. Sergeant, I will post' your men, and you will see that 
the places I designate are watched by sleepless eyes.” 

“They shall be watched, Dick. I am as anxious to lay my hands 
on this Yankee spy as you are. The boys share my eagerness. 
i*ost them where you please.” 


t'ORT FISHER. 


13 

Half an hour later Dick Whitney had stationed the little band oj 
spy hunters at five places, and enjoined careful watchfulness upon 
all. 

The swamp at whose fringe the men had been left looked dark 
and dismal to the last degree. 

Somewhere in its depths lurJced the loyal spy, or glided from sod 
to sod over its watery paths. 

The chorus of myriads of frogs came from the interior, filling 
the soul with weird fancies, and driving all desire for sleep from 
the soldiers’ minds. 

“ Won’t I catch him, though ?” growled Dick Whitney, who 
communed with his thoughts as he retraced his steps toward the 
house after an absence of several hours, during which he had 
glided along the edge of the swamp for some distance. 

Yes, he would make Harry Hilton’s doom a speedy one if fort- 
une threw him into his hands. 

He would rid Ina of one lover, and give the rejected major-gen- 
eral another chance to resume his suit. 

The moon was near the rim of the horizon when the most in- 
veterate rebel of the Neck reached the house, and thick shadows 
lay around it. 

His anger had not wholly cooled down, for he threw the door 
wide like a man in a passion, and stalked into the domicile. 

The interior of the room was quite dark. 

Ina?” he asked, in no good humor. 

” I am here,” said a silvery voice, and the sylph-like figure of the 
beautiful speaker moved forward. 

” Strike a light— for it’s as black as Egyptian darkness here.” 

Ina Whitney moved away, and the next minute the apartment 
and its appointments were revealed by a candle which the girl 
placed on the table at Dick’s right. 

When she looked up at the Confederate she found him standing 
erect, his arms folded upon his broad chest, and his eyes, full of 
accusation, fastened upon her. 

For several moments stare and counter-look went on, the beauti- 
ful Carolinian never blanching, nor the calm light in her eyes 
diminishing for a second. 

“Ain’t you ashamed of yourself ?” blurted Dick, at last, and 
with a suddenness that was startling. “ Look straight into my 
eyes, Ina, and answer my question. I am master under this roof 
and my authority is not to be despised.” 

“I have nothing to retract, Dick,” was the resolute response, 
despite the menacing eyes of the burly Confederate. 

“Nothing? Is that so?” 

“ Nothing.” 

It seemed well for Ina Whitney at that moment that the table 
was between the pair. 

“Well, your insolence beats tho devil,” grated Dick. “I told 


FORT FISHER. 


14 

the boys that I would tame you, and tame you I will. I caught 
you to-night in the swamp with the Yankee spy, who turns out to 
be the same fellow who barely escaped tar and feathers in Wil- 
mington the first year of the war. You knew him then, and you 
stand by him now.” 

“ And by the fiag he serves, Cousin Dick.” 

“Don’t ‘cousin’ me,” ^ cried the Confederate. “ By the eternal 
stars! I will not stand it. You must obey me to-night. Remem- 
ber that this is the Neck and not Wilmington. Ina, you must 
change your politics ; you must let that Yankee spy slip away ; 
you must listen to the general.” 

The girl burst into a clear, ringing, tantalizing laugh. 

“ I thought you were going to recommend the captain this time, 
Dick,” she said. 

“ Captain Davis? Not by a long shot. I hate that man. 1 saw 
him at the fort to-day and I could hardly keep my hands from 
him. I say you must listen to the general. He hasn’t given you 
up, by any means.” 

“But what if I have discarded him ?” 

“You shall not do that. I swear you shan’t,” and Dick moved 
toward the girl. “You shan’t leave this house until you have 
made up your mind to destroy the flag in your bosom, and to give 
the Yankee spy the mitten. This is North Carolina, not Massa- 
chusetts, girl. Treason to the South can’t flourish here. You’re 
a Whitney, so am I. There shan’t be a Yankee lover of that name 
on Tar-heel soil. You hear me, Ina ?” 

“Ido.” 

“ And you will be tractable ?” 

“ Do you want my answer now ? 

“Right away.” 

“Then know. Cousin Dick, that mad eyes and madder words 
frighten me not. I am a woman, but threats cannot turn me 
from my purpose. My heart is with the flag of the Union, and I 
cannot listen to the courtship of the man I despise.” 

Dark as a thundercloud grew the face of the man who heard 
these words. 

A sudden stride carried him clear of the table, and the next 
second he came toward the girl with itching hands. 

“I’ll tame you, or kill !” he hissed.' “ Give up the Yankee and 
his flag— give them both up to might, or I’ll— I’ll choke you to 
death.” 

His eyes, his mien indicated his wrath. 

He sprung suddenly at Ina like a tiger springing upon his 
victim. 

A startling cry rose from her throat as she involuntarily recoil- 
ed, but too late. 

The hand that shot forward seized and closed at her throat ere 


FORT FISHER. 15 

she could attempt the slightest defense, and she would have fallen 
if he had not held her up. 

“Be Confederate, or die!’’ he exclaimed. “Dick Whitney’s 
blood is boiling in his veins. I’ll either convert you, or kill 
you !’’ 

The next moment, in the midst of the rebel’s triumph, the door 
was burst open, and the man who had leaped across the threshold 
dealt Dick Whitney a blow that made him release his hold. 

“ I’ll fight rebels anywhere!” he said, catching Ina in his arms 
before she struck the floor. “Dick Whitney, the Yankee spy has 
left his hiding-place, and he is here to strike a blow for love and 
the Union.” 

Whitney, who had been knocked senseless by the well-dealt 
stroke, had dropped to the floor, and the young rescuer was about 
to bear the senseless girl from the room, if not entirely from the 
house, when a voice assailed his ears. 

“I guess I’ve got you, Yank. Give in like a man or I’ll let a bit 
o’ candle-light into your head.” 

Of course Harry Hilton turned upon the speaker who stood in 
the doorway. 

He was a rebel soldier, one of the sergeant's squad, and the mus- 
ket which he pressed against his shoulder was not more than 
three feet from the young Unionist’s head. 

Death stared him in the face. 


CHAPTER IV. 

BLACK-FACED, BUT TRUE-HEARTED. 

When a brave man is menaced by a terrible danger that threat- 
enes his life, his thoughts move rapidly. 

Thus it was with Harry Hilton when he found himself confront- 
ed by the rebel soldier, whose glittering eyes told him how eager 
were his fingers to press to trigger. 

“Surrender! I’m not going to freeze here,” came over the level- 
ed musket. 

“That I do, but help m« with this girl here,” said the Unionist. 

“ Is she dead ?” 

“No, but nearly so, I fear.” 

The Confederate unwittingly lowered his weapon as he took a 
step forward. 

A quick glance beyond his enemy told Harry Hilton that the 
soldier was alone. 

He had probably followed him from the swamp, and had reach- 
ed the house on the knoll too late to prevent Whitney’s knock- 
down. 

There was in the room a narrow cot, on which Dick sometimes 
slept, and Hilton bore Ina to it and laid her down with much gen- 
tleness. 


30 


FORT FISHER. 


“Who hurt her, Yank asked the Confederate, halting beside 
the cot. 

“That coward yonder,’’ and the young spy’s glance singled out 
the unconscious Whitney. 

“Dick Whitney?’’ 

“ Yes.’’ 

“ What made him do it ?’’ 

The response came in a manner not looked for by the Confed- 
erate. 

All at once Harry Hilton leaped at him, and by main force tore 
his musket from his hands before he could frame a plan for resis- 
tance. 

“ I’ll turn the tables, Johnny Reb,’’ he shouted in the Confeder- 
ate’s ear. “ After this when you’ll take a Yankee prisoner you’ll 
not let cnriosity get the better of discretion. You are my prisoner, 
instead of my being yours. Resist, and I’ll kill you with your own 
gun.” 

The rebel stood speechless and unarmed in the presence of the 
man who had so deftly turned the tables. 

“ It’s a mean, Yankee trick!” he said, at length. “I wouldn’t 
treat a fellow that way ” 

“No; you wouldn’t do anything meaner than rebel against the 
stars and stripes,” interrupted Hilton. “ Did you suppose I would 
let you march off with me? I don’t take you for a fool, Johnny, 
but you’re not many degrees removed from one. See here, I’ve 
got to do something with you, so I’ll do this 

As he finished, Hilton raised the musket and brought it down 
upon the rebel’s head with a force that sent him reeling away with 
a groan. 

“ By George! it was a close call,” he ejaculated, when he found 
himslf free once more. “ Things are getting warm on the Neck. 
When Butler comes he will find me ready to report, if the John- 
nies don’t lengthen my neck before then. I didn’t come to this 
house a moment too soon. I thought Dick Whitney, the brute, 
would try to exercise a ruffian’s authority over Ina. I wish my 
blow had killed him. If there was one suitable spot in the swamp 
for Ina she should not remain here another minute; but there 
isn’t. I am compelled to leave her here under the same roof with 
the meanest man in North Carolina. Let him harm her if he dare ! 
I will come to her rescue from the swamp if a thousand rebel sol- 
diers surround it. Ina Whitney is true to the old fiag. Threats 
cannot make her false.” 

With the last word the young Unionist bent over the fair girl, 
and as her eyes opened and partially recognized, he snatched a kiss 
from her brow and turned away. 

Stepping over the figure of the Confederate soldier which lay be- 
tween him and the door, he hurried from the house, bearing with 
him the musket he had captured. 


FORT FISHER. 


ir 


The moon which had lighted the night had gone down, and the 
Union spy had no fears of being discovered on his way back to the 
swamp, which he was obliged to make his retreat. 

“ I know this place as well as Dick Whitney does,” he said, in 
half audible tones, when he found himself among the spectral 
trees of the hidden place. ‘‘Ifound^all its paths before the war, 
but I never expected to be a hunted man here. To-morrow the 
hunt V ill open in earnest, and every rebel in the neighborhood 
will be crying for the blood of Butler’s spy. But they shall not 
get a drop of it.” And he clinched his hands. “ I will hold my 
post till the bluecoats come. The old Army o^f the James shall not 
blush for me I” 

Although the swamp was dark and gloomy, Harry Hilton suc- 
ceeded in picking his way to a piece of firm ground, where he 
seated himself on the trunk of a fallen tree. 

He had scarcely fixed himself there when a slight noise attracted ’ 
his attention, and his hand sprung at once to a revolver, which he 
cocked. 

He was conscious at once that a living object of some kind was 
near, but he could see nothing. 

“ Is that you, Massa Bluecoat ?” asked the unmistakable voice of 
a darky, in a whisper. 

Harry started. 

During his forced habitation of the swamp, he had not caught 
sight of a single black face, and the voice of the negro possessed a 
sound that sent a thrill to his soul. 

It told him that, hunted as he was, fortune had not wholly de- 
serted him, but had sent him a friend on whom he could rely. 

“Yes, it is me,” he answered, leaning forward. “Who are 
you ?” 

“ Only old Gumption,” came the answer, and then Hilton saw 
the outlines of the giant-like figure that crept forward from a spot 
on his left. “ I’se caught sight ob ye a dozen times since you has 
been hyar, massa, an’ do’ ye habn’t got de Linkum uniform on, I 
knowed ye. Dey is huntin’ ye, massa.” 

“ I know that, but where are they now ?” 

“ ’Tween hyar an’ Dick Whitney’s house. Dat yer Dick Whit- 
ney am de meanest rebel in de hull Souf. Shake him an’ de deb- 
bil in a bag an’ Dick will come out first. Don’t Gump know ’im ? 
Dar’s twenty-five lashes on dis ole back ob mine, an’ ebery one 
come from Dick Whitney. Dat’s de way he writes his name.” 

“ Are you his slave?” asked Hilton. 

“ Dar ain’t any mo’ slaves,” was the quick response. “ Masta 
Linkum say so, an’ de chains all break at once. We’se all free nig- 
gers now, but some ob us hab to hide in de swamps till de blue- 
coats come. I’se been hyar off an’ on fo’ six weeks. Gumption 
Cute am waitin’ fo’ Gin’ral Butler.” 

“ Who told you he was coming ?” 


18 


FORT FISHER. 


“ You kin hear it in de air,” and the darky chuckled. “ De very 
winds sing about Picayune.Butler, an’ old Gump never grow tired 
listenin’ to dem. But how is be goin’ to git away from de rebels, 
massa?” 

“I’ll manage that, Gump. I had a siege of it to-night, but here I 
am without a scratch.’’ 

“ Dat’s so, I see. Do ye know dis ole swamp ?’’ 

“ Pretty well, I think.’’ 

“Hab ye seen de Crane’s Nest?’’ 

Hilton started. 

“No.” 

“ Den you habn’t seen all de sights.’’ 

“May be not, my black friend. What is the Crane’s Nest?’’ 

“A place what hab saved dis darky from mo’ lashes dan Dick 
Whitney ever gib ’im. It fooled Dick once, too, an’ mebbe it fool 
’em all to-morrow.’’ 

If the negro’s eyes had been more penetrating than they were, 
he would have seen the look of eagerness and curiosity that lighted 
up the Unionist’s orbs. 

“Come dis way, massa,’’ he said, “an’ we’ll find de Crane’s 
Nest.’’ 

We need not say that Hilton was eager to quit the spot, and a 
moment later the darky was guiding him through the swamp, 
which was so dark that in places one could scarcely see one’s hand 
before one’s face. 

For some time Gumption led the young spy through the gloom. 

The trees and underbrush got thicker and thicker, until at last it 
seemed impossible for the twain to proceed. 

Hilton knew that during his stay in the swamp he had never 
visited the place to which the darky had conducted him, and he 
was anxious to know what kind of place had been dubbed the 
Crane’s Nest. 

At last the sable guide paused, and, taking Hilton’s hand, drew 
him up to a tree. 

“ Kin ye climb, massa ?” he asked. 

“Yes,’’ was the quick response, as the spy’s thoughts went back 
to the days of his boyhood. “ Must we climb to the Crane’s Nest, 
Gumption?’’ 

“ Dat’s de idea. Hyar’s de tree, massa. Climb it Hire a possum, 
an’ dis chile’ll be along to show youse de Nest.’’ 

Hilton did not delay a moment, but began to ascend the tree, a 
task which he did not find very difficult. 

Certain noises told him that the darky was following him, and at 
length his companion’s voice told him to rest. 

The Union spy was more than fifty feet above ground, and the 
hegro told him that he had reached the crane’s nest. 

“Hab ye a match, massa?’’ asked Gump. 

“I have a few left.’’ 


FORT FISHER. 


19 


“ Strike one ; dar’s no danger.” 

Hilton did so and the little flame bursting forth in the tree top 
showed him a lot of boughs lashed together and forming a strong 
and comfortable bed. 

“ De keenest eye in de Tar-heel state can’t see dis old nest from de 
ground,” said the negro at Hilton’s ear while he surveyed the re- 
treat. 

“ Not even in the daytime ?” 

“ Night er day, massa, it’s all de same ; de human eye can’t see 
de Crane’s Nest,” was the assuring response. “ Git into de nest an’ 
try it. It am strong an’ soft.” 

As Hilton’s match went out he got into the tempting nest and 
found it the downiest bed his limbs had pressed in all his soldier 
experience. 

” I believe I’ll go to sleep here,” he said in a laughing strain to 
the black. 

“ Dat’s right, massa. De old nest am one ob de best beds on de 
neck. You kin sleep hyar widout fear, fo’ Dick Whitney can’t find 
ye, an’ ole Gump will keep guard.” 

Five minutes later the regular breathing of a sleeping man told 
that Butler’s spy had taken the darkey at his word. 

Hilton was fast asleep. 

How long he slept he did not know when a rumbling sound un- 
closed his eyes. 

Starting up he looked around and saw the negro’s face in the 
first flushes of morning. 

All at once the sound came again to his ears. 

It was a distant cannon shot. 

The darky grinned and showed his ivories. 

De Yankees hab come !” he exclaimed. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE SWAMP TRAIL,. 

The negro’s exclamation sent a thrill of cheerfulness to Hilton’s 
heart. 

Was it time that the Union army had come ? 

Let us see. 

The port of Wilmington had long been an eye sore to the war 
and navy departments because of the facilities it afforded to the 
blockade runners for operating successfully, and in August, 1864, a 
joint naval and military expedition was organized for its capture. 

The only drawback was found to be the dilfioulty of obtaining a 
co-operating land force, which should assist Admiral Porter, who 
was to command the naval squadron. 

It is time that the Union had more than a million of armed men 
in the field. 

The glitter of loyal bayonets was seen all over the South, yet the 


PORT PISBLER. 


20 

number asked for, lor the reduction of the outer defenses of Wil- 
mington, could not be spared from any quarter just then. 

Sherman, who had swept through Georgia with his invincible 
legions, was approaching Savannah, after having practically cut 
the Confederacy in twain, and Grant still held Lee at bay before 
Petersburg. 

The severe losses which Grant had suffered between the Rapidan 
and the James made it necessary that his army should for the 
present be kept intact and reinforced by all the surplus troops at 
the command of the government. 

Still the oommander-in-ohief kept his eye ou Wilmington, and 
did not forget the desire of the navy department. 

At last the opportunity presented itself. 

There came a time when Lee and Grant were in a deadlock be- 
fore the Virginian city, and the Union general resolved to strike 
a blow along the coast. 

Wilmington had harbored the rebel contrabands long enough. 

Despite the formidable forts that guarded the channel, the 
haughty city had to fall. 

Early in August Grant promised the requisite laud force, and 
Admiral Porter began to assemble at Fortress Monroe one of the 
most magnificent and formidable armadas ever seen afloat. 

There were seventy-three ships in all, including monitors, carry- 
ing a total of six hundred and fifty-five guns. 

Many of these cannon were the best then used in naval warfare, 
and each was manned by men who had already won laurels on the 
high seas. 

The soldiers intended to assist Porter consisted of sixty-five hun- 
dred men, taken from the Army of the James, and placed under 
the command of General Weitzel, a young officer who had lately 
won his stars. 

More men had been asked for, but Grant could not spare a great- 
er number just at that juncture, and he believed that the force 
sent would prove sufficient for the accomplishment of the task in 
hand. 

One delay after another operated against the expedition, and it 
was not until the ninth of December that Admiral Porter was 
notified that the land forces were ready to move. 

These, to be precise, consisted of Ames' division of the Twenty- 
fourth Corps, and Paine’s division of the Twenty-fifth, with two 
batteries, and fifty cavalry. 

General Butler was not expected to accompany the expedition 
which Grant intended should be led by Weitzel, with no superior 
officer on hand to cripple his movements; but when the fleet got 
off on the twelfth, behold Butler was on board. 

The hero of New Orleans had come along to superintend a won- 
derful pet scheme which was expected to accomplish tremendous 
results. 


FORT FISHER. 


21 


After a somewhat stormy voyage, the transports having the 
troops on board approached the North Carolina coast on the 
morning of the fifteenth, and the report of a heavy gun rolled over 
the water. 

A minute later another was fired, as if to defy the rebels who 
guarded Fort Fisher, and to tell them that the vanguard of the 
threatened Yankee expedition had arrived. 

These were the cannon shots which had startled Harry Hilton in 
the Crane’s Nest in the swamp, so that Gump’s observation had hit 
the mark. 

The most formidable fort that opposed the Union forces was that 
of Fort Fisher which was situated on the southern point of the 
Neck, and north of New Inlet, in which the transportsjhad dropped 
anchor. 

The fort and its commanding batteries consisted of two fronts, 
one extending nearly five hundred yards across the Peninsula, the 
other running parallel with the beach, and terminating with the 
southernmost or Mound Battery, and thirteen hundred yards in 
length. 

The land front was intended to resist successfully any attack 
from the north, while the sea angle would prevent the enemy from 
landing troops on the beach washed by the waters of New Inlet. 

The land side of Fort Fisher possessed a parapet twenty feet 
high, with strong traverses ten “feet higher. 

These traverses ran back on their tops, and were ten feet thick. 

Between each pair were two heavy guns loaded with grape and 
c^anister, and so planted as to command a splendid view of the 
ground over which the enemy would have to advance. 

There were traverses on the right and the left of the fort’s front ; 
some of them were protected by a strong palisade, which was loop- 
holed for rifiemen, and provided with banquettes. 

The men who had superintended the erection of Fort Fisher had 
neglected nothing, and proved themselves able engineers. 

They had built bomb-proofs in the traverses for the men, and had 
placed two field-pieces for flank fire at the small redan which 
covered the bomb-proof portion of the middle traverse. 

Strong as the land front of the fort was, the sea angle was equally 
formidable. 

It possessed twenty-four guns, and its different batteries were 
connected by an infantry parapet which formed a continuous line. 

The works were guarded by nearly two thousand Confederate 
troops under the command of General Whiting, an officer intro- 
duced to the reader in our first chapter. 

The rumble of the two morning guns as it came inward from the 
sea told Hilton, the Union spy lying in the Crane’s Nest, that But- 
ler’s soldiers had at last reached their new field of operations. 

He was almost ready with the report expected of him. 

Several weeks prior to the departure of the expedition from 


oo 


FORT FISHER. 


Hampton Roads, he was sent to the Neck for the purpose of ascer- 
taining the disposition of the rebel forces there, and the strength 
and extent of the works to be attacked 

Harry Hilton was a lieutenant attached to Ames’ division, and 
his acquaintance with the peninsula had led to his selection for the 
hazardous enterprise. 

When informed that he had been chosen, he did not shrink, but 
unbuckled his sword and assuming the disguise of a countryman 
set out on his journey. 

He knew the doom of the captured spy, but it had no terrors for 
a royal heart like his. 

His reply to Butler, when all the dangers of his trip had been 
placed before him, was characteristic of the hero. 

“ A soldier of the Union never shrinks from his duty,” he said, 
and with these words on his lips he walked from the presence of 
his general, nerved for all the perils that fall to the lot of the spy. 

It is not our intention to detail his work previous to his discov- 
ery in the swamp on the Neck by Dick Whitney. 

We shall only say here that he had obtained the very informa- 
tion needed by Weitzel and Porter, and was almost ready to make 
his way to the fleet when he heard the guns which might have 
been fired to tell him that his comrades had arrived. 

“Gump,” he said to the negro, “my stay on this neck of rebel 
land is soon to end. To-night I shall attempt to reach the fleet.” 

“ In de boat in de little bayou, massa ?” 

“ Yes. How did you know that boat was there?” 

“ Dis nigger dreamt it out, mebbe,” grinned Gumption in reply. 

“ Ole Gump go wid ye, massa. Him knows de shoals ’bout : s 
well as he knows dis yer swamp. To-night we’ll go to de Yankee 
ships, an’ dar you’ll report to de big gin’rals.” 

Hilton had but one request in his mind while he listened to his 
sable companion. 

He was leaving Ina behind, leaving her in the clutches of Dick 
Whitney. 

Was he compelled to do this ? 

Why not return for the loyal girl at nightfall and take her away 
to Porter’s fleet where the arm and the ire of her rebel cousin 
could not reach her?” 

This question asked mentally roused the Union spy. 

It would be extremely hazardous to go back to the house on the 
sand knoll, but while Ina remained there she would be subjected, 
to insults and indignities, the thought of which heated Hilton’s 
blood. 

Resolved to rescue her if possible, he consulted the darky, who 
at first shrunk from the danger of the undertaking. 

“ Dick Whitney will watch Ina ebery minute,” he said. “ She 
will be kept at home an’ dem rebel sojers will not let it git out o’ 
their sight. But if ye is fo’ takin’ her off, massa, ye kin jes’ count 


FORT FISHER. 23 

OH dis contraband, who hates Dick Whitney wuss dan a snake hates 
fire.” 

“ It’s a compact, then I” cried Hilton, grasping the black hand 
of his faithful ally. “ I’m going to baffle Dick Whitney again be- 
fore I make a final break for the fieet. To-night, Gump, we’ll do 
our work. Ina shall not stay here in the midst of a lot of baffled 
Confederates.” 

The negro, instead of replying, suddenly seized Hilton’s wrists, 
and leaned forward as he whispered : 

“ Dey ar’ hyar after you, Massa Harry. I hear Dick Whitney 
talkin’ to his friends. Lie still— de trees am so thick hyar dat de 
sharpest rebel on de Neck can’t see de ole Crow Nest.” 

As Hilton listened he distinctly heard the steps and the low 
voices of men as they threaded the insecure mazes of the swamp 
beneath them, and by making a peep-hole through the bottom of 
his bed, he was enabled to catch sight of figures moving in the 
early morning light. 

With his hand on his revolver, he lay and watched them until 
he counted Dick Whitney and five men. 

” Ain’t dey a purty set ob humans?” whispered the darky, at 
Hilton’s ear. ‘‘ One o’ dese days dis chile will pay Dick Whitney 
back fo’ de twenty-five lashes he guv me once.” 

Hilton did not reply, but continued to watch his hunters until 
they stood under the very tree that concealed him. 

It was a critical moment. 

‘‘ I’m stumped, but not for long,” said Whitney, in a voice that 
reached the Yankee spy. “We will go back and get Mose Mosong’s 
dogs.” 

“ Why didn’t you think of them before?” asked the sergeant. 

“ Hang me, if I know. They just entered my head. With those 
bloodhounds, we’ll run the Yankee down.” 

A shudder went through Hilton’s frame as he glanced at his 
companion. 

“Nebber mind de hounds, Massa Hilton,” said the negro. “Do’ 
dey am de biggest dogs on de Neck, dey kin be outwitted.” 
“How?” 

“ Water leaves no trail. Dar go Dick Whitney an’ his friends 
back arter the dogs. Mose Mosong will come back wid ’em. Massa 
Harry is you afeard ob bloodhounds?” 

“ I came to this place prepared for anything,” was the deter- 
mined reply. “ How far is it to Mosong’s ?” 

“ ’Bout three miles. We must git down from de Crow’s Nest 
now. De dogs can’t smell a trail in water.” 

The next moment Gump swung himself into the top of another 
tree near by, and was followed by the young lieutenant. 

In this manner they managed to reach a tree that stood in dark- 
looking water several hundred yards from the Nest. 


24 


FOKT FISHER. 


“Down dar’s onr hidin’-plaoe, massa,’’ said the negro. “We 
must hide in de water from Mose Mosong’s dogs.” 


CHAPTER YI. 

BOB, THE CONSCRIPT. 

Meantime the Confederates in Fort Fisher and the other forts 
that stood between the Union forces and Wilmington were pre- 
paring to resist the threatened attack. 

Their leaders knew the importance of the city they guarded, 
and resolved to defend the forts to the last extremity. 

Long before the departure of the combined forces from Hamp- 
ton Roads, the Confederates knew the nature of the expedition 
and the point of attack, so that when Porter’s advanced ships 
reached New Inlet, they found the rebels prepared for them. 

Among the officers who sprung to the top of the seaside parapet 
of Fort Fisher to get a view of the Union shipping, was Captain 
Duke Davis, the officer so cordiall^ hated, as we have seen, by 
Dick Whitney. 

“ I wish they’d attack at once !’’ he exclaimed. “ I’m anxious to 
go up to Wilmington and pay my respects to Ina. She’ll listen to 
me this time, for Dick will not be around to interfere, and I will 
carry off the prize in spite of General Noble.’’ 

“What’s that, captain?’’ asked a voice at Davis’ elbow, which 
made him turn quickly. 

“Did I speak my thoughts aloud, Nichols?’’ he said, address- 
ing the person who had evidently spoken, a man about thirty, 
rather tall, but not very prepossessing. 

“ I should say you did. The general and you are not friends ; 
you see a rival in him, if I don’t miss the mark.’* 

Captain Davis smiled, although the words just spoken seemed to 
displease him. 

“ We are not at sword’s points, at any rate,” he said. 

“But you will be the next time you meet if the third party does 
not step in and carry off the prize. 

“The third party ?” exclaimed the rebel captain, starting. “Is 
there such a person, Nichols ?” 

“ Did I say there is ?” 

“ No ; but ” 

“ But you think so! Ha, ha!” 

Captain Davis instantly colored. 

“ Look here 1 I don’t want you to trifle with me, Nichols. You 
know something about my business. Out with it!” 

“ Here, captain ?” 

“ No, not here. Come to my quarters.” 

The two men got down from the parapet, and Captain Davis led 
Nichols to his little quarters, the door leading to which he closed, 
and whirled upon his companion. 


FISHKft. 


25 


“Now, out with it!” he cried. “Tell me what you know.” 

Instantly the face of the man called Nichols underwent a 
change. 

A moment before he looked like a person who was easily cowed , 
but now his eyes seemed to snap with a light akin to defiance. 

Nichols was a North Carolinian, who had been conscripted into 
the rebel army from one of the mountain counties, where a good 
deal of loyalty to the old flag remained. 

He was a raw-boned fellow, who, doubtless, knew the pathways 
of the mountains better than he knew “ Hardee’s Tactics,” in 
short, a mountain eagle whose wings had been clipped by the Con- 
federate War Department. ^ 

Since his conscription he had been advanced to the position of 
second sergeant, and, being rather independent, took more liber- 
ties in the fort than were allowed other men. 

“So you want me to tell you all I know, hey ?” he said, in re- 
sponse to Captain Davis’ last words. “That wouldn’t take long. 
I believe I did speak of a third person who might cut both you 
and the general out. But in the first place, captain, I want a 
promise from you.” 

“A promise from me?” echoed the rebel captain, wondering 
what was coming. “ Well, what do you want me to do ?” 

“ I want you to promise to sign a paper which I will draw up, or 
have drawn up to-night. It is a recommendation for my discharge 
from the Confederate service.” 

Captain Davis started as if a bombshell had dropped at his feet. 

“Don’t run away, captain,” laughed Nichols. “You are the 
man who got me into the service, and you are the only man who 
can get me out honorably. You hunted me from mountain to 
mountain in Buncombe County until you found me and pressed 
me into the service. Your men burned the old cabin over my 
mother’s head, and left her to the mercies of winter. Captain 
Davis, Bob Nichols ought to kill you in your tracks, not for his 
own wrongs, but for his mother’s. Why don’t I desert ? I loathe 
the name of the deserter. It shall never be attached to me, even 
though the act would sever me from a cause I never espoused. 
Don’t get your danger signals hoisted before I get through. I’m 
going to talk till I’m done. Promise to sign ^he recommendation 
to-night, and I’ll tell you something that will open your eyes.” 

“ Go to the colonel,” said Davis, madly. 

“ I’ve been there and he sent me to you. ‘ If you get the captain 
on your paper,’ he said, ‘ you will get out. Davis is the man who 
caught you.’ That’s the word the colonel used. Good I how well 
it suited. ‘Caught!’ Yes, caught like a wild beast ; hunted from 
den to den to be caught at last. You caught me, Captain Davis, 
and you must open the doors of the trap that holds me.” 

“ Don’t you love the Confederac^y, Nichols ?” 


rORT FISHER. 


“ I’m not very particular which side wins. There are many like 
me in the mountains.” 

” But to which side do you lean most ?” 

‘‘Not to the one that dragged me from home and placed a mus- 
ket in my hands, saying : ‘ Fight for the cause that burned the old 
cabin over your mother’s head!’ Do you think I ought to love 
that cause, captain ?” 

Despite the scowl on the captain’s brow, the pointed question 
made him wince. 

‘‘ Then I guess we can’t trade,” he said. “ Nichols, I don’t think 
you know much, anyhow. Your words on the parapet were a trick 
to get here.” 

“ That’s not true 1” thundered the conscript, and he took a step 
toward Davis, who, menaced by his flashing eyes, recoiled. “ I’ve 
not got down to trickery to obtain my release. I offer you a fair 
trade. My release in exchange for a secret. So you won’t promise 
me, eh ? Captain Davis, you shall sign my recommendation !” 

The rage of the mountaineer was something terrible to see. 

He seemed to increase several inches in stature as he planted 
himself between Captain Davis and the door. 

‘‘ The promise I the promise !” he thundered. ‘‘lam not going 
to leave your quarters without it. Dear as the mountain home is 
to me I will not be a deserter, not even from the cause that has 
wronged me. I want a discharge. Your name will get it. Do you 
promise, captain?” 

“ What’s your secret ?” 

“The promise first,” persisted Bob. 

“Tell me what you know, and then ” 

“ Then you will see whether it is worth your signature, eh ? No I 
I don’t trade for liberty in that manner.” 

Duke Davis’ eyes fairly blazed deflance. 

“ Then, Bob Nichols, the parley ends,” he grated. 

The next second there leaped upon him the agile figure of the 
mountaineer, and the bronzed hand that shot at his throat hit the 
mark squarely, and fastened there. 

“ My liberty, captain, my release !” shouted Nichols, as he bore 
Davis toward the wall at his back. “I know who the third party 
is, and I’ll tell you for your recommendation. Ina Whitney has 
more lovers than you and the general. Ha 1 wouldn’t you like to 
know who the third fellow is? He isn’t a thousand miles away, 
either. His name for the recommend. Shall it be a trade, captain, 
There’s time enough yet.” 

Captain Davis was gone almost too far to articulate, for the con- 
script’s fingers had flattened his wind pipe, and seemed to be 
choking the life out of him. 

In response to Bob’s last offer the captain ground his teeth and 
looked him fiercely in the eye. 


FORT FJSHER. 27 

“ No trade, hey? Then I’ll close a little tighter. This is the gripe 
of the man whose home you burned, captain!” 

Under the clutch of the mountaineer. Captain Duke Davis grew 
black in the face, and when at last those terrible fingers relaxed, 
dropped to the fioor like a corpse. 

“ Have I killed the wretch?” exclaimed Bob Nichols, stooping 
over his victim. “If I have I’ll have to get out of the fort. It 
will be desertion after all, and mother hates deserters so.” 

A moment’s inspection seemed to tell him that he had choked 
the life out of the captain, for all at once he sprung up and filed 
from the quarters. 

For a single moment he stood before the door, then he climbed 
the parapet, and walked leisurely away. 

“ It’s good-by to Fort Fisher at last,” he murmured, glancing 
over his shoulder. “ Many’s the night I’ve brooded over my 
wrongs behind those old walls. They can’t make a Confederate 
out of me. I was born in the mountains and the old flag is good 
enough for me. Captain Davis, I’m sorry we couldn’t trade. It 
was your fault, not mine. If you had your part to play over again 
I guess we could come to an understanding. They’ll hunt me, I 
know it. As my old mountains are not near. I’ll try the swamps.” 

Turning abruply as he finished, he increased his gait, and the 
following moment was walking toward the north, in which lay the 
swamp that was harboring Harry Hilton. 

The conscript was free, but not out of danger. 

His strike for liberty had resulted in a scene he had not bargained 
for. 


CHAPTER VII. 

TREEING THE WRONG MAN. 

“ What do you want of my dogs?” 

“ We’ve got a Yankee spy back thar in the swamp.” 

“A Yank, hey?” 

“ Yes, Mqse, a genuine Yank and no mistake.” 

“ An’ you can’t get him without the dogs?” 

“ I’m afraid not. Loan us the brutes for awhile and we’ll ruu 
the Yankee down.” 

“I’m always willin’ to help catch a Yank, Dick, an’ you shall 
have the dogs. If I war able I’d go with you, but my old wound 
opened again the other day, an’ I’m housed up for a spell.” 

At Mose Motsong’s call two huge, liver-colored bloodhounds 
bounded into view. 

They were ferocious looking beasts, capable or tearing a human 
being piecemeal, and the soldiers instinctively shrunk from con- 
tact with them. 

“ Thar’s the nigger catchers, Dick,” laughed Mosong, who was 
a mau of fifty, and by no means prepossessing in either face oj* 


38 


yOKT FISHER. 


figure. “I’ve raised ’em from pups myself, au’ know just what 
they can do. They’re not used to smellin’ Yankees, of course, 
but them dogs kin do anything. When you nab the spy bring 
him this way. I want a squint at his anatomy, for I haven’t 
seen a live one since Malvern.’’ 

Dick Whitney promised to exhibit his expected prisoner to the 
owner of the bloodhounds, and once more ordered his men to 
follow him to the swamp. 

“ We can’t lose a trail now, sergeant,’’ he said to the non-com- 
missioned ofQcer at his side. “Mose Mosong’s dogs are known 
everywhere on the Is^eck for the best animals anywhere. 
They’ll smell the Yank out for us in less than an hour, and we’ll 
get back to Fort Fisher before noon.’’ 

The two dogs took kindly to Dick Whitney’s authority, and the 
little band of spy hunters re-entered the swamp at the place 
from whence they had emerged a short time before. 

All at once the dogs struck a trail and started off. 

“Struck it already,’’ cried Dick, looking at his companions. 
“ Thar’s no discount on Mose Mosong’s dogs. Come along, boys. 
The Yankee spy is doomed now.’’ 

Away went the Confederates threading the intricate mazes of 
the swamp as best they could, and keeping the dogs in sight as 
much as possible. 

Dick Whitney, of course, was in the lead. 

He was eager to lay hands on the man who had dealt him a stun- 
ning blow the night before, and more than once he had vowed to 
see Harry Hilton end his adventurous career at the end of a rope. 

The Southerner’s bloodhounds, true to their calling, led their 
followers deeper and deeper into the swamp. 

“ They act as if they’re on a nigger trail,’’ said Dick. “ I haven’t 
seen them so keen for years. A gait like this will take us clear 
across the swamp before long.’’ 

The trail seemed to grow hotter as the trailers advanced. 

The strong light of morning had dissipated the dark shadows iii 
many places, but hereand there where the trees grew thickest they 
lay densely, affording good coverts for hunted human beings. 

At last the two dogs stopped and bayed peculiarly up some trees 
that grew close together, and formed a thick, almost impenetra- 
ble, roof with their branches overhead. 

“ By my life, he’s treed !’’ exclaimed Dick. “ Cock your pieces, 
boys. I’ll let him know that we’re here in force.’’ 

Then he elevated his voice. 

“Hello, Yank! We know you’re up thar. These dogs never lie. 
Come down peaceably and surrender, or we’ll send a volley up 
through the limbs.’’ 

To these words there was of course no response, for, as the reader 
knows, Harry Hilton had left the Crane’s Nest, and had found 
another hiding-place, 


FORT FISHIER. 


29 


‘^Aiu’tyou coming down ?” continued Whiting. “Git ready, 
boys ; when I say ‘ fire,’ let the Yankee have it.” 

The same silence replied to the eager Confederate, and five min- 
utes of waiting passed away. 

“ Confound him !” growled Dick to his men, “ I’ll have to go up 
and see about him myself. We were not to kill him, you know, 
and a volley ’d do that. Keep your muskets aimed at that leafy 
place up yonder, and at my command blaze into it.’’ 

Dick Whitney now began to climb the tree, a task which was 
not difficult, for there were many friendly limbs to assist him, and 
he went up swiftly, watched eagerly by men and dogs. 

“ Of course, he found nobody overhead, but his discovery of the 
nest excited him, and told him that he had come too late to find 
the bird he wanted. 

The soldiers cursed the ill luck which confronted them ; and 
when Dick had narrated his discovery, they attempted to follow 
the loyal spy’s trail from the tree. 

Suddenly, one of the men exclaimed: 

“ Yonder’s the Yank ! I saw his figure straight ahead.’’ 

At the same moment the dogs saw an object that made their 
cruel eyes snap, and away they went bounding far beyond the 
Confederates in the twinkling of an eye. 

“Surrender!” shouted Dick Whitney at the top of his voice, al- 
though he had not seen the figure. 

“ What, me give up to those infernal dogs?” responded the man 
who halted on a half-submerged log in a lonesome place. “Are 
they on my track already ? It hasn't been two hours since I ran 
away from Fort Fisher, and here they are after me with two blood- 
hounds. Heavens 1 I’m not going back to the fort alive ! They are 
not going to drag Bob Nichols back and shoot him for killing the 
meanest man in the Confederate service. They’d better keep their 
dogs off! If they come much closer I will kill ’em I” 

Bob Nichols ! 

The man, then, was not Harry Hilton, the loyal spy, but the 
mountain conscript who had lately choked Captain Davis into 
insensibility. 

Instead of routing out the Yankee spy the dogs had closed the 
deserter up, and he now stood at bay on the the log with a heavy 
revolver in his right hand. 

“ Keep your dogs off !” he shouted to the men he saw approach- 
ing him. “ I’m not going to be torn by their teeth. I know what 
you want with Bob Nichols, but you’re not going to get him.” 

The gaunt animals approached to the edge of the water and 
bayed at the conscript, whose visage wore a determined look, and 
whose eyes flashed Are. 

A yell from Dick’s throat started the dogs forward again ; they 
plunged into the water which was not deep enough to force them 
to swim, and came at Nichols with distended jaws. 


30 


FORT rrSHKR. 


“Off! you devilish brutes,” cried the conscript. “I’ll put an 
end to your nigger-catchin’ careers if you come any closer. Bob 
Nichols is not going back to Fort Fisher with the print of a blood- 
hound’s teeth in his flesh.” 

Of course the olood-thirsty brutes paid no attention to the con- 
script’s threatful words, but rushed forward again. 

Suddenly the crack of a revolver rung through the swamp, and 
the foremost dog leaped out of the water with an agonizing yell 
and fell back with a splash. 

“ One !” grated Bob, his eyes kindling with victory. “ I’m ready 
to fight my way back to the old mountain home. There’s another 
left an’ five or six Confederate soldiers down yonder. Come on, 
liver-colored brute, if you want to follow your brother.” 

The remaining dog was not disheartened by the death of his 
companion. 

It seemed to rouse him to vengeance, for with a bay of defiance 
and eyes that seemed to start from his head, he came straight at 
the man on the log. 

Bob Nichols fired, a little hastily,’but the mad beast did not 
stop. 

“ A miss !” he exclaimed, as the dog reached a spot not more 
than five feet from his log. “This time T make certain of my 
Work.” 

It was not a simple matter to cover the plunging animal, whose 
appearance was enough to unnerve the bravest man, and before 
the mountaineer could do so the dog was actually upon him. 

A wild yell of victory broke from the throats of Dick Whitney 
and his men when they saw the twain meet on the sunken log. 

The leap of the dog threw Nichols backward, and for a moment 
the combatants were lost sight of, although their struggles in the 
water were distinctly heard, 

“ Forward, boys !” cried Dick. “ The dog will finish the Yank if 
We don’t separate them,” and he set the example by dashing 
through the water himself. 

Excited by the desperate contest going on behind the log, the 
Confederate soldiers followed at Dick’s heels. 

They were as eager as their leader to catch the Union spy before 
the teeth of the infuriated hound could dispose of him. 

The foremost of the soldiers were not many feet from the log 
when a dull report reached their ears and a terrible apparition 
rose into view. 

It was Bob Nichols, but his garments were shreds, and his face 
was covered with blood. 

“ Halt!” he eried, thrusting his revolver into the faces of the 
men, who recoiled with ejaculations of horror. “ I’ve finished the 
second dog, an’ I’ll finish you if you advance another step. I’m no 
Yankee spy. My name is Niohols, but they want me at Fort Fisher 
just the same.” 


FORT FISHER. 


“ Not the Yank ?” cried Dick Whitney, who could scarcely credit 
the evidence of his senses. “ Can it be that you arc not the Lin- 
coln spy we’re after ? ’ 

“I’m Bob Nichols, I tell you,’’ was the response, 

“That’s so, Dick. I recognize him now,’’ said the sergeant. 
“We’ve run the wrong man down, and lost Mose’s dogs by it, 
too.’’ 

“ He’s a deserter, though,’’ grated Whitney. 

“ Then we’ll take him back with us.’’ 

“Not alive !’’ flashed the conscript, whose hand did not quaver 
while it held the deadly revolver in the soldiers’ faces. “ You’ll 
not take the mountain conscript back to Fort Fisher to be shot 
like a dog. I’m going home or die. No more war for Bob Nichols. 
If you’re huntin’ a Yankee spy you’d better leave me an’ look 
after him. He’ll skip you slick an’ clean if you give him a little 
more time.’’ 

“That’s so, sergeant,’’ said Whitney, in an undertone, to the 
head man of his gray-coated squad. “ One conscript don’t amount 
to much, anyhow. These fellows won’t fight} and the army’s bet- 
ter off without them. We can saddle the death of the dogs onto 
the Yankee spy. I’ll fix that with Mose. Yes, I say, let Bob Nich- 
ols go. There’s shoot in his eye, and we weren’t ordered here to 
find him.’’ 

The sergeant suddenly discovered that the conscript’s arrest was 
not essential to the success of the Confederacy, and then a press- 
ing of matters might cause the emptying of the revolver that 
menaced them. 

It was, therefore, decided to leave the conscript unmolested, and 
he saw the baffled men depart. 

“ They hadn’t the grit to tackle me,’’ said Bob to himself. “ If 
the Yankee spy is the man I think he is they’ll have their hands 
full when they grapple with him. Now for home.’’ 

Home, Bob Nichols ? 

It is far, far away for you. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE STORY OF BIG ABE. 

Deprived of their best allies, the bloodhounds, by the conscript’s 
revolvers, Dick Whitney and his men were obliged to go back to 
their hunt for Harry Hilton with diminished chances for suc- 
cess. 

This they did with plenty of profanity and bad humor. 

Mose Mosong would never recover from the tragic death of his 
dogs, which he almost worshiped for their ferocity and keenness 
of scent, especially when on the trail of a human being. 

Meantime, where was the loyal spy ? 

We left him, as the reader will readily recall, with Gump, the 


FORT FISHER. 


ti2 

uegro, in a tree over a piece of dark water which looked too dis- 
gusting for the hiding-place of man or beast. 

Still, the pair had taken refuge in it, for when danger menaces a 
fugitive he finds no time for choice. 

Finding a friendly log in the water, Harry and Gump secreted 
themselves behind it with no part of their bodies save their heads 
above the surface, and the firearms of the party out of the ele- 
ment. 

Water breaks the trail of the keenest dog. 

More than one poor slave, fiying before the jaws of his four-- 
footed trackers, had found refuge before the spy in the water of 
that very swamp. 

From their hiding-place, Harry and his companion heard the 
voices at the tree that supported the Crane’s Nest, and they 
caught a glimpse of Dick Whitney as he went up the trunk to in- 
vestigate. 

They breathed free again as the hunting party passed on, but 
did not leave their watery retreat until their limbs became so 
cramped that they were obliged to move. 

They heard, indistinctly it is true, the reports of the two shots 
that deprived Mose Mosong of his dogs, and were at a loss to de- 
termine what had caused them. 

“ Mebby Dick Whitney an’ his men hab treed de wrong ’possum,” 
said the darky, showing his teeth in a grin. “ Dar’s mo’ dan one 
nigger in dis yer swamp what de dogs ar’ liable ter stir up. Ebery- 
body on de Neck knows Mose Mosongs’s dogs, an’ dere owner am 
de only human bein’ what lubs ’em.” 

Harry listened to the negro, and said, as he paused : 

“I’ll reward the man who kills those hounds. They are the 
worst enemies we can have in this swamp. They are hard to fight, 
and as trackers they have no equals.” 

“ Dat’s a solid fact,” responded Gump. “ Mo’ dan once we nig- 
gers hab watched Mose Mosong’s fo’ a chance to kill dem animiles; 
but nary a chance could we git. One night Big Abe said he would 
do the job. You neber knowed dat darky, Massa Harry ?” 

“Never.” 

“Well, he war mo’ dan six feet tall, an’ blacker dan de darkness 
de Lord once sent ober de land ob Egypt. Big Abe said he would 
kill dem dogs. We had tried ter pisen dem, but dey knowed mo’ 
about pisen dan we did ourselves. Dey slept in de very room war 
Mose makes his bed, an’ dar Big Abe said he would go an’ fix ’em. 
It war a year ago dat he said so an’ he hasn’t done it yet. Why 
not, massa? Bekase de dogs took it inter dere heads ter fix Big 
Abe.” 

“ How did they do it ?” 

“ Wal, you see dar war no way ob gittin’ to de dogs at night 
’cept by enterin’ Mose’s house, bold-footed, an’ goin’ at de job fo’ 
ter kill. Big Abe sharpened his knife, an’ when he knowed Mose 


PORT FISHER. 


33 


an’ his dogs war asleep he creeps up ter de do’ an’ listens dar. Not 
a single sound come from dat house, an’ Big Abe he listens fo’ one 
hour. When he git up on his tip-toe wid de knife in his left han’-^ 
for dat darky war left-handed— he gently raised de latch. Dar 
ain’t a lock in Mose Mosong’s house ’ceptin’ de jaws ob dem dogs. 

“ Dar war a young moon dat night, an’ we niggers what seed 
Big Abe open de do’ held our breff. Purty soon dar came from 
dat house a howl an’ a yell dat nearly froze my blood. We 
knowed dat Abe had tackled de dogs. Fo’ three minutes de racket 
dey all made would hab scared de debbil. We knowed dat Big 
Abe war fightin’ Mose Mosong an’ his bloodhounds, an’ somethin’ 
seemed ter keep us whar we war. After awhile de noise grew 
still, an’ we seed a man come out o’ de house. 

“ ‘ Dat’s Mose, boys,’ says I, an’ sure enough it war Mose hisself. 
He carried something in his arms, an’ as he come down off de porch 
we heard ’im laugh an’ say : 

Hyar’s de wuss-lookin’ nigger on de Neck. Big Abe, don’t 
you wish you hadn’t come ter see Mose ter-night V 

“ Den he carried dat object toward de swamp, an’ come back 
widout it. By-’m-by, Massa Harry, we crept down dar an’ found 
Big Abe. Ole Mose didn’t lie when him say dat he war de wuss- 
lookin’ nigger on de Neck, fo’ if dar war a wuss one 1 never|seed 
’im. Dem dogs had chawed Abe nearly all up. His carkiss hardly 
held together when we lifted it to tote it away. Dat’s how one 
nigger failed to kill Mose Mosong’s dogs. We darkys habn’t tried 
it since. Big Abe’s failure war enough fo’ all.” 

Harry Hilton became so interested in Gump’s narrative, horrible 
as it was, that for minutes at a time he forgot his own situation, 
and that he had just seen those same terrible dogs on his trail. 

If he had known that the revolver of Bob Nichols, the conscript, 
had put an end to their career, how his heart would have leaped 
for joy ! 

An hour and more passed away, and the spy and his companion 
had exchanged the water for firm ground again. 

They wondered what had become of Dick Whitney and his 
friends, for no voices and no sounds of footsteps reached their 
ears. 

Ah I if night would only come ! 

Under cover of darkness Harry Hilton had resolved to attempt 
two daring exploits— to rescue lua Whiting from the house on the 
summit of the sand knoll, and to escape with her to Porter’s fleet 
lying in the inlet. 

He could not expect Dick Whitney to give np the hunt while a 
particle of daylight remained, and he believed that the swamp 
would be thoroughly searched from border to border. 

However, the day wore away without the baying of the blood- 
hounds assailing his ears again, and he watched the cooling shad- 
ows lengthen around his cool retreat. 

2 


u 


FORT FISriiiR. 


What had become of Dick Whitney ? 

The loyal spy asked himself this question a thousand times as the 
sun dropped by degrees toward the western horizon, and a puzzled 
look was in the negro’s eyes. 

If he could have looked beyond the swamp, the spy might have 
seen a man lying on his face on the bare floor of a small shanty 
that looked somewhat pretentious with a porch in front of it. 

He was not dead, for all at once the prostrate man leaped wildly 
to his feet and let loose a cry of madness. 

His eyes were blazing orbs and he frothed heavily at the mouth, 

“My dogs! my dogs! Give me back my dogs!’’ he shouted 
until he could have been heard a mile. “ Woe to the man who 
killed them! They were part an’ parcel of me. I will have his 
blood. I will hunt him down. Blood for blood! The blood of 
a man for the blood of my dogs!’’ 

This madman of course was Mose Mosong, who had been 
knocked senseless by the news of the death of his hounds, and 
Dick Whitney, the bearer of the news, had slunk away before 
the Carolinian recovered. 

Woe to you, Bob Nichols, if you fall into the clutches of the 
owner of the bloodhounds. 

Harry Hilton did not see this exciting scene. 

He believed that the dogs were still alive, and with the negro’s 
narrative ringing in his ears, he resolved to meet them like a man 
if circumstances threw them across his path again. 

At last night resumed her reign, and his hand fell upon Gump’s 
shoulders as he exclaimed: 

“We make the break now. Take the boat to the spot agreed 
upon, and wait for me. I am not going to fail. I promised to re- 
port to the admiral, and I am going to keep my word.’’ 

“ An’ take de gal along, Massa Hilton ?’’ 

“Yes.’’ 

“ Dey am watchin’ her at de house.’’ 

“What if they are?’’ said Harry, quickly. “I am a soldier of 
the Union, Gump. Heaven desert me if I shrink from any danger ! 
I will rejoin you at the beach. Dick Whitney and his men shall 
not keep me from Ina’s side. That girl loves the same flag you do, 
Gump, and that banner shall protect her.’’ 

“God bress de young creature!’’ ejaculated the darky. “She 
ain’t de only pussun in Norf Car’liny what loves de ole flag.’’ 

As it was dark, Hilton had resolved to tarry no longer on the 
spot, and the two friends separated to move in opposite directions. 

The Yankee spy picked his way through the swamp without 
much noise, and succeeded in reaching the edge entirely undis- 
covered as he thought. 

“ Halt, there,’’ suddenly said a voice that drove his hand to his 
revolver as he involuntarily checked himself. 

“ Who are you, friend or foe?’’ asked Harrv. 


FORT FISHER. 


35 


“ Foe if you’re Dick Whitney ; friend if the Yankee spy.” 

The voice was both new and strange to the young Unionist. 

He hardly knew what reply to make, although the voice seemed 
to breathe friendship. 

“ It makes no difference who I am,” he said, raising his revolver. 
“Who are you?” 

The reply was swift and thrilling. 

“ I am Bob Nichols, the man who killed Mose Mosong’s dogs!” 

That was enough. 

The dreaded bloodhounds were dead. 

Harry Hilton sprung forward, and clutched the conscript’s hand. 

“ I am the hunted spy,” he exclaimed. “ I owe you much for the 
death of the hounds. I never saw you before, but we are friends.” 

“ I guess we are,” was the answer, “because the Confederacy 
wants us both. 

Then the hands of the two men met, and Hilton knew that 
instead of a foe he had met a friend. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE SONG OF EOYAETy. 

“ Where are we going ?” asked Nichols. 

“ To Dick Whitney’s house.” 

The conscript’s look instantly became a stare. 

“ Man, you must be mad,” he said. “ Dick Whitney is looking 
for you. You’re the very man General Whiting wants to hang.” 

“ I know that, but to the house on the sand knoll I am going if it 
be guarded by a thousand Dick Whitneys.” 

“Sh! I see now,” exclaimed the conscript. “You’re the man I 
hinted to Davis about. Dick Whitney’s cousin is a beauty.” 

Harry Hilton started. 

“ Don’t tell me any more,” continued Nichols. “ It is Ina who is 
taking you to the house. If I were in your shoes, I’d be thinking 
about getting to the fleet.” 

“ I’m going to Porter to-night, but not without the girl.” 

“Oh! where’s your boat?” 

“ A faithful friend will have it at a certain place on the coast 
when I need it,” 

“ Does Ina expect you ?” 

“ No. I’ve been hunted nearly all day by Dick Whitney and the 
blood hounds.” 

Nichols was silent for a moment. 

“ Look here, Hilton,” he said, suddenly. “ I guess I’ve cut loose 
from the Confederacy. I entered the service against my will, and 
I’ll be hanged if I could ever like it. I had to leave Fort Fisher 
because Captain Davis and myself had a little difficulty.” Nichols 
pmiled. “It wouldn’t be pleasant for me to go back there any 
piore, and if I stay on the Neck they’ll be looking for me. Do you 


36 


FORT FISHER. 


want any help to-night? If you do, say so, and you’ll , find Bob 
Nichols ready to do all he can.” 

This offer of help came most opportune, and with a heartiness 
that stamped it genuine. 

“ I thank you,” Hilton said, cordially. “ I may need help. I 
will take you.” 

With such an ally as Bob Nichols, the Union spy felt his chances 
of success vastly improved, and the next f^e minutes were devoted 
to an interchange of plans. 

Dick Whitney’s house stood about four miles from the sea, where 
it touched the point to which Gump the negro had promised to 
convey the boat. 

A part of the way the path led through a sandy district, and for 
a mile or two along the edge of a dry swamp more dismal, if any- 
thing, than the one from which Hilton had just emerged in safety. 

When the two men had completed their plans, they moved 
toward Dick Whiting’s house, which they approached from the 
north, and reached the foot of the knoll undiscovered. 

The sky was studded with multitudes of brilliant stars, but the 
two men had no eye for the beauty of the heavens at that particu- 
lar time. 

Not a sound came down from the house. 

It loomed between the twain and the stars, dark, grim and silent, 
as if it were the abode of the dead. 

*• Come,” whispered Hilton, touching the conscript’s shoulder. 
“ What is to be done must be done quickly.” 

One behind the other, with their hands at ready weapons, the 
two men began to ascend the hill. 

They made no noise as they crept through the whitish sand 
across which tlieir shadows faintly fell, and the only sound that 
reached their ears was the frog chorus from the swamp at their 
right. 

What had become of Dick Whitney and his friends ? 

Were they still threading the darkened mazes of the swamp 
hunting for the loyal spy, or did they guard the sand hill house, 
watching the girl whose loyalty had maddenad and surprised 
them all? 

Nearer and nearer to the house crept Hilton and Nichols. 

“Hist!” whispered both at once, and the conscript added: 
“The caged bird is singing, Yankee. 

5res, the sweet strains of a woman’s voice were floating away on 
the night air, and the two men, crouching among the few weeds 
that found sustenance in the sand, listened speechless and en- 
tranced. 

It was Ina singing, and her song was abundant proof of the loy- 
alty which she had lately flung into Confederate faces, 

This is what the listeners heard : 


FORT FISHER. 


S7 

“ O’er mountain, and valley, and billow, 

O’er city, and village, and plain, 

The flag that our forefathers cherished 
Shall in triumph be hoisted again. 

Rebellion shall die in its kennel, 

And Justice and Right have full sway 
When Liberty flghts for the Union, 

And the Blue triumphs over the Gray 

“ No more by the winding Potomac 
On guard stand the pickets of Lee, 

And the blue-coated legions of Sherman 
Came thundering down to the sea. 

In the Southland a bright light is beaming, 

’Tis the dawn of that glorious day, 

When the North and the South shall be sisters, 

And the Blue triumphs over the Gray.” 

“ She’s Yankee, like you,” smiled Nichols, glancing up into Hil- 
ton’s face as the strains of the last verse died away. “That won’t 
snit Dick Whitney, for he’s Confederate to the core. There can’t 
be any of them near, or they wouldn’t let Ina sing such a song as 
that.” 

“ We will see in a moment,” replied Hilton. “The song is ended 
now. We will go forward and surprise the bird.” 

Once more the two men advanced, and succeeded in creeepiug 
up to the rear of the house without meeting with any adventures. 

This side of Dick Whitney’s home was supplied with a vindow, 
beyond which the friends saw a light. 

A moment later, Hilton, by looking in at the window, saw that 
the door at the front of the house was open, and that a womau was 
standing in it. 

“It is Ina!” he exclaimed. “The coast is clear. Bob; I will at- 
tract her attention.” 

Raising his hand he bestowed several taps on the pane, and saw 
Ina turn from the door and toward the window. 

But all at once she halted in the middle of the room, and the 
flgure of a man was seen in the doorway. 

“There a Confederate officer,” fell from Hilton’s lips. Do you 
know him. Bob?” 

The conscript looked at the new-comer for a moment, and then 
gave utterance to an exclamation of surprise. 

“Great heavens! it is Captain Davis, the fellow I thought I had 
choked to death. We’ll I’m right down glad that I haven’t the 
rascal’s blood on my hands ; but I don’t like to see him here at 
this time.” 

“ Neither do I. It interferes with our plans,” said Hilton. “ I 
am not going to be baffled by the captain’s visit. For my part. 
Bob, I wish you had choked him a little more in the fort.” 

Ina’s surprise at seeing the rebel captain in the doorway was 
both genuine, and great. 

“ Goo<^-night, Miss Ina,” he said, bowing cavalierly. “ I did no^ 


FOBT FISHER. 


as 

know you were on the Neck until this evening, and I snatched a 
few moments of time from the eve of tattle to make a friendly 
call.” 

“Look at that girl’s eyes,’’ whispered Bob, at Hilton’s elbow 
before Ina could reply. “ She doesn’t like a hair of the captain’s 
head.’* 

“ The eve of battle, say you ?’’ she said, turning squarely. upon the 
Confederate. “I would think that at such a time every officer ‘ 
should be found at his post of duty.” 

Her words were cuttingly sarcastic, but they did not abash the 
brazen man by whom she was confronted. 

“ The Yankees don’t seem eager to attack. They will probably 
survey our works through their glasses, and then leave us in un- 
disturbed possession of them.” 

“ Don’t be too sure of that,” said Ina, with siiirit. “Admiral 
Porter is no coward.” 

“ I don’t say he is. But let us put these war subjects aside. When 
did you return from Wilmington ?” 

“ A few days since.” 

“ And the Neck is to be your home for a time, I suiipose ?” 

“ Yes, or until your fort hauls down its colors.” 

The beautiful girl smiled mischievously. 

“ Aha ! I was not mistaken, then,” said the captain. “ The voice 
I heard in song as I approached this house was yours ?” 

“Yes. One is permitted to sing one’s sentiments, I suppose.” 

Captain Davis started. 

“ Were those sentiments yours ? ’ he asked. 

“ Yes.” 

“ They are not Dick’s.” 

“ But I am not Dick,” laughed Ina. “ I have appointed no body 
guardian of my sentiments. I am loyal to the government, but 
not the one that totters at Richmond.” 

“ The one that plots at Washington, then !” he grated. 

The girl’s eyes twinkled an affirmation which darkened the Con- 
federate’s brow. 

“ I am going to put a stop to this,” said Hilton to his companion, 
the conscript. “ The presence of Ina’s visitor is very distasteful to 
her. Do you wish to avoid the captain ?” 

“ No. 1 would just as soon face him as any one.” 

“ Come on, then.” 

With the full^intention of interrupting the captain’s visit in 
unceremonious manner, Harry led the mountain conscript around 
the house and appeared suddenly in the doorway. 

“ Captain Davis, you are my prisoner,” he said in a voice that 
made the Confederate turn like a flash. 

“Your prisoner?” he cried, eying Hilton. “By George! you 
may be the Yankee spy ” 

“ May be I am he,” was the interruption, and Hilton raised his 


JORT FISHER. 39 

I’eVolver. “ Submit with good grace, captain. My friend here will 
take charge of you.” 

At that moment Bob Nichols made his appearance and Captain 
Davis’ eyes seemed to fly from his head as he recognized him. 

“You here?” he grated, starting toward Nichols, as a recollec- 
tion of his late choking at the conscript’s hands flashed across his 
brain. “ By the eternal stars ! I’ll sign your recommendation with 
a bullet.” 

“ You will do nothing of the kind, captain,” responded Nichols, 
springing forward and throwing himself upon the ofiBcer. “I don’t 
want your miserable life, though I ought to take it.” 

Bob’s leap was so sudden and irresistible that the rebel captain 
was taken unawares, and the two men went to the floor together 
as Hilton shut the door. 

“Noise we will not have here,” ,he said, placing his revolver at 
the captain’s head. “We will bind and gag you, and leave you 
where you will he found before long.” 

Of course, menaced as he was, the Confederate was forced to 
surrender, and, covered by Hilton’s|revolver, he “was bucked and 
gagged with very little ceremony and not much respect for his 
feelings. 

“ Now, Ina, if you will leave the Neck, let me become your es- 
cort,” said Hilton, turning with a smile upon the loyal beauty. “ I 
am going to the fleet. If you are willing to leave Dick Whitney 
for a time, I shall be glad to conduct you to the stars and stripes.” 

“ It would be desertion, Harry,” was the answer. 

“ The exchange of land for sea. But you will go, Ina?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Now for the boat. Bob.” 

Already the mountain conscript had opened the door, and as he 
touched the threshold with his foremost foot the crack of several 
muskets were heard, and the Carolinian staggered back into the 
house with a cry of pain. 

The Union spy seemed rooted to the spot. 


CHAPTER XI. 

RUNNING THE QANTEET. 

The thud of bullets's wiftly followed the loud reports. 

One or two buried themselves in the wall behind Hilton, and he 
felt a sudden pain in his arm. 

“ Dick Whitney’s men are out there !” cried|the conscript, spring- 
ing from the floor despite his wound. 

“ By my soul ! they are not going to take me alive.” 

He darted past Hilton, as he spoke, and reached the door with a 
bound. 

Was he about to desert the Union spy ? 


40 


FORT FISHER. 


Harry saw him spring from the house, and the next moment 
heard his ringing voice. 

“ Here I am, men ! T have worn the gray, but I hate it. We can 
never be friends again !” 

At that moment his revolver cracked, and with exclamations of 
fear the few Confederate soldiers in his front began to recoil. 

He was soon joined by Harry, who fired several shots at the 
men, and then saw them disappear. 

“ For the boat now. Not a moment of time is to be lost. We 
may have to fight our way to it, but what of that? Porter must 
be reached to-night.” 

The Unionist sprung toward the house. 

“ Keep out of the light,” cried Nichols, after him. “ Don’t give 
the Johnnies a target to fire at.” 

This was good advice, and Hilton reached the house without ac- 
cident. 

“ I am ready,” said Ina, with eagerness. ” Where is the boat ?” 

“ At Diamond Cove.” 

“ That is four miles away.” 

“ Yes, but we must make it.” 

“Do you know the way?” 

“ I know it.” 

Menaced by danger, the trio started at once down the hill and 
turned their faces toward the sea. 

Nichols said that his wound was neither painful nor serious, and 
Hilton had discovered that his memento of the little brush was 
only a flesh wound in the arm. 

They expected to be followed by the Confederates, whom they 
had beaten off in front of the house, and were consequently on the 
alert, the men carrying their revolvers in their hands. 

The light of the stars enabled them to make their way rapidly 
across the sand, which was compact and did not yield to their 
tread, and they soon believed that they were not to be pursued. 

Hilton thought more than once of the helpless officer they had 
left behind in the house. 

If he could have seen what was transpiring there at that mo- 
ment, a smile would have started across his face. 

Soon after the departure for the seashore, several men in Con- 
federate gray entered Dick Whitney’s house and found Captain 
Davis bound and gagged on the floor. 

They lost no time in releasing him, and when he found his 
tongue again a torrent of rage and abuse poured from his mouth. 

Epithets of every description were heaped upon the heads of 
Hilton and the conscript, and Captain Davis seemed to forget 
about pursuit in his eagerness to curse them. 

The scene was really amusing, and the soldiers exchanged 
glances of merriment as they watched the captain walk the floor 
and listened to his hot anathemas. * 


FORT FISHER. 


41 


“ Why don’t you fellows follow them ?” he cried, whirling upon 
the Confederates. “You’ve been sent here to catch that infernal 
Yankee spy, and he has just left you. I’ll give twenty-five dollars 
in Yankee gold for Bob Nichols, his companion. He’s the brute 
that buried his fingers in my throat, and I want to bury a rope in 
his ! What are you standing here for ? By my life ! I’ll report 
every one of you to General Whiting. Is this the way you hunt 
Yankee spies? If I had to command men like you, I’d resign and 
break my sword!” 

“ Mebbe we’d better go, boys,” said one of the men. 

“ Of course you’d better go,” cried Captain Davis. 

“ Won’t you go with us, cap’n ?” 

“ I have to report at the fort,” was the answer. “ Besides, I don’t 
command you, men,’' and the Confederate walked past the men 
and passed from the house. 

“ I’m in a stew,” he said to himself, when he reached the air out- 
side. “ Bound and gagged by a Yankee spy and a Tar-heel con- 
script. It’s a disgrace. They’ll make me the butt of their jokes, 
those privates will, when they get back to the works. I will not 
stand it. By Jupiter ! I will submit to no insolence at the hands 
of a private soldier! So I found the Yankee spy when I was not 
looking for him. He is the man Bob Nichols referred to when he 
said that the general and I had a rival who had the inside track. 
He and Ina have met before to-night. I will get even with the 
whole party yet. That girl is loyal to the North, a thing I never 
dreamed of. I wonder how Dick Whitney likes her politics ; not 
very well, of course.” 

Meantime the three fugitives across the peninsula were making 
satisfactory progress, and if they were not molested would soon 
reach the boat which Gump promised to have ready at Diamond 
Cove, a little inlet well known to the loyal spy. 

“ Halt!” suddenly whispered Harry, touching Ina’s arm, and all 
three came to a halt almost within sight of the sea. 

“ I hear nothing but the sound of waves in the cove,” said Nich- 
ols, after listening for a moment. 

“ That is all I heard. Bob ; but we must recounoiter. Stay here 
with Ina. I will perform that duty.” 

So saying, Harry Hilton crept toward the beach, and approach- 
ed the head of the sand-locked cove with eyes on the lookout for 
the negro and the boat. 

What if Gump had failed to bring the boat to the point of ren- 
dezvous; or, worse still, what if Dick Whitney and some of his 
men had trailed him to the spot? 

At length the Union spy caught a glimpse of an object on the 
sand and believed that he had found the boat. 

With an inaudible expression of thanks for Gump’s faithfulness, 
he crept toward the spot and found the boat. 

Where was the negro ? 


43 


rOKT FISHER. 


Nothing of him was to he seen, and Hilton wondered what could 
have become of him. 

At any rate he had found the boat, and Gump’s services were 
not needed to take them to the Union fleet. 

When Hilton reached the craft which rested on the sand a few 
feet from the water, he put his hand upon its gunwale and raised 
himself to look into it. 

The next moment something in the boat moved suddenly, and as 
a hand fell on the spy’s shoulder, a revolver was thrust into his 
face and a mad voice hissed : 

“ At last, Mr. Yankee ! I thought you would come. Open your 
mouth and I’ll scatter your brains over the sand !” 

These words, accompanied by the menace of the revolver, were 
enough to congeal Hilton’s blood. 

He could not start back, for the hand on his shoulder held him 
fast. 

And then he was gazing into the face of Dick Whitney, the man 
of all men whom he did not want to meet at that time and place. 

“ Bound for the fleet, eh ?” continued Dick, in tones insinuat- 
ingly triumphant. “ When you get there with your news Admiral 
Porter will know it. I told the boys that I’d watch for you here, 
for I knew you would come. How did we come to find the boat ? 
We saw your black partner carry it here and I told the boys what 
it meant. Do you want to know where Gump is? The boys have 
got him safe and sound.” 

The malicious twinkle in Dick Whitney’s eyes maddened the 
man so suduculy and unexpectedly made prisoner. 

He thought of the couple he had left behind on the sand, and re- 
solved that the meanest rebel on the Neck should not keep him 
from the fleet. 

” We’ll go up the Neck a piece,” said Dick, rising, with his eyes 
still fixed upon his prisoner. ” I’ll have to turn you over to Gen- 
eral Whiting, who ” 

The interruption was as quick as unexpected, for, seeing his op- 
portunity, Harry Hilton raised his hand and dealt Whiting a stun- 
ning blow squarely in the face, a blow that made him drop his re- 
volver and stagger to the water’s edge. 

‘‘ This way— quick!” the young victor shouted to Bob and lua, 
who instantly bounded forward. “Launch the boat. Bob. I’ll get 
the prisoner.” 

“The prisoner?” echoed Ina, as he darted away. 

“Yes; he’s too dangerous to leave behind, for I’m coming back 
to the Neck soon.” 

As the conscript announced the boat ready for the embarkation, 
Hilton reappeared dragging a human body which he lifted over 
the rail. 

“It is Cousin Dick!” ejaculated Ina, shrinking from the contact 
with the insensible captive. 


TfOwnp FiflHER 


43 

**Yes, your delectable Cousin Dick,” laughed Harry- “I’m 
sorry we are compelled to leave Gump in bad hands, but it can’t 
be helped now. When the fight comes off we may help the brave 
black fellow.” 

Without more ado the boat was pushed off, and the arms of Hil- 
ton and the conscript sent it swiftly through the water. 

The Yankee spy was safe at last, but he did not dream as the 
prow of the waves cut the boat that ill fortune was to throw him 
into the midst of terrible danger again. 

The ride over the water was not enlivened with any incidents 
worth narrating. 

Suddenly the cry of “ boat ahoy ” fell upon the trio’s ears, and 
Hilton found himself alongside a large vessel that looked in the 
night like a monster of the deep. 

“What ship is that?” he sent up to the watch. 

“The Malvern.’’ 

“Where is the admiral’s flagship ?” 

“This is it, sir.” 

An exclamation of joy burst from Hilton’s lips, and five minutes 
later he found himself in the presence of Admiral Porter, who had 
gladly left his bed to meet him. 

“Your information is timely and most valuable,” said Porter, 
when he had listened to Hilton and < x imined his papers. “ You 
can fight with your regiment in a day or so.” 

“ I’m glad of that,” was the reply. 

“ I shall be glad to go back to the Neck under thelold flag.” . 


CHAPTER XII. 
butler’s powder boat. 

Dick Whitney was far from a willing captive on board Porter’s 
flagship. 

At first he demanded his release on the grounds that he was not 
in the military service of the Confederate states, but Admiral 
Porter would listen to no protests, and ordered him to be confined 
in the hold of the Malvern. 

Finding that the admiral was obdurate, Dick attempted to get 
Ina to intercede for him, but the loyal girl believed that a little 
imprisonment would do him some good, and gently declined to in- 
terfere. 

“ I’ll get even with both the girl and her Yankee lover one of 
these days,” ground Dick, when he found himself friendless in the 
dimly lighted hold of the vessel. “They won’t keep ahead of me 
always, neither will this Yankee ship forever be my prison.” 

While the Confederate in the hold was meditating a plan of es- 
cape, the Union commanders were getting ready to attack the de- 
fenses of Fort Fisher. 

The transports arrived off New Inlet on the fifteenth of Decern- 


I'OllT FISHEtt. 


44 

ber, and on the eighteenth and nineteenth they were joined by the 
ironclads which had put into Beaufort for ammunition and coal. 

Scarcely had the whole fleet got together ere the weather became 
threatening, and a heavy gale from the southwest on the twentieth 
threatened to send every ship to the bottom. 

Admiral Porter resolved to ride out the furious storm, which he 
did, losing nothing but a few anchors ; but the transports con- 
taining the troops put back to Beaufort. 

It was a storm that is still remembered by those who met it, and 
the cheeks of more than one defender of the Union grew white as 
it increased in violence. 

The transports saved themselves by putting in at Beaufort, 
where they and Porter’s fleet escaped destruction by the merest 
chance. 

When the storm had apparently spent its force, the wind chop- 
ped round to the westward, bringing calm to the troubled sea, and 
Porter determined to begin the attack. 

“The general must flrst experiment with his powder boat,’’ re- 
marked Porter, with a smile to a group of officers, among whom 
stood Harry Hilton. “ Mr. Hilton, you know the sea and land de- 
fences pretty well. How would you like to accompany the ex- 
pedition?’’ 

“I am ready for anything,” was the prompt reply. “If I can 
be of service on board the powder boat, you have but to assign me 
to that duty.” 

Admiral Porter took our hero in blue at his word, and ordered 
him to report to Commander Bhind, who had been put in charge 
of the powder boat, intended by General Butler to produce ter- 
rible results. 

This powder boat was the gunboat Louisiana, which had been 
purchased by the government for operations on the Carolina 
sounds. 

It was intended to place on board two hundred thousand pounds 
of gunpowder, and explode the whole mass under the walls of 
Fort Fisher. 

Somewhere Butler had read an account of the explosion and ter- 
rible effects of an immense quantity of powder in the Thames, and 
he fondly hoped to demolish Fort Fisher with his powder boat. 

Grant had no confidence in the experiment, but as it was But- 
ler’s pet idea, it was permitted to proceed to the only results it 
could produce. 

When Hilton reached the Louisiana he discovered that she had 
been disguised as a blockade runner. 

She had been stored with two hundred and fifteen tons of pow- 
der, arranged in sacks and barrels to produce the greatest effect. 

Gomez fuses penetrated the whole mass in a manner that pro- 
vided for instantaneous ignition everywhere. 

The fuses were to be fired by clock-work, so that there was no 


f 

FORT FISHER. 45 

likelihood of accidents happening to the men selected to conduct 
the enterprise. 

Never was a powder boat better prepared for an event of the 
kind for which the Louisiana was intended, and Butler expected 
great results from his cherished scheme. 

On the night of the twenty- third the Louisiana left the little 
fleet and pursued her way toward the beach. 

There was silence on board and every one was on the alert as the 
steamer Wilderness towed the powder boat almost noiselessly 
through the waves. 

After awhile, despite the gloom, the embrasures of the Confed- 
erate fort became visible, and the Wilderness cast off, leaving the 
Louisiana to steam on alone to her destination. 

It was a momentous time for the officers and crew of the powder 
boat. 

Harry Hilton, who knew the current well, conversed with Com- 
mander Rhind in low tones, while the men looked like specters as 
they glided to and fro. 

When the powder boat had reached a point about four hundred 
yards from the fort it was securely anchored, and everything got 
ready for the explosion. 

“ As yet the rebels believe us to be a blockade runner,” smiled 
Rhind. “We have deceived them completely, and now we’ll give 
them a little shaking up.” 

“A very little one, too,” muttered Hilton, who put very little 
confldence in Butler’s scheme. 

Just at this juncture a man approached Rhind with a report 
that startled him. 

“ The watch has discovered a boat under our bows,” said the 
sailor. 

“ A boat under our bow ?” echoed Captain Rhind. “ Heavens! 
we must not be discovered before we can get to work. That boat 
and its men must be destroyed. Lieutenant Hilton, I assign this 
duty to you.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Be quick about it, too.” 

Hilton was moving off when Rhind’s last words struck his ear. 

A boat under the Louisiana’s bows was an event to be dreaded at 
that moment, for some daring Confederate might adjust a fuse 
which would blow the powder boat and her crew to atoms. 

Silently assisted by men who understood their duty, Hilton low- 
ered a boat over the vessel’s side and shot like an arrow toward her 
bows. 

A minute later he disturbed somebody at work, for a dark ob- 
ject darted from the darker shadow of the Louisiana, and shot 
shoreward. 

“Halt! ’’cried Hilton, leaning over the rail, revolver in hand. 
“ Halt, or we’ll open on you!” 


46 


FORT fisher. 


“ Open, and be hanged ! I’ve got the best boat,” was the reply, 
and the race for shore began. 

The men who manned Hilton’s boat bent themselves gallantly to 
the task as if determined to give the lie to the enemy’s last asser- 
tion. 

“We’ll catch him if you keep up your licks, boys,’’ said Hilton. 
“ The Johnny sha’n’tget away with a whole skin to-night.’’ 

Suddenly, as if afraid of the shore at the point which he was ap- 
proaching, the rebel guided his boat to the right and pulled harder 
than ever. 

Despite his efforts, Hilton gained rapidly upon him, and for the 
third time commanded him to slack up and surrender. 

“To you Yanks?’’ was the answer that came back over the water. 
“ I rather guess that old North Carolina don’t give up without a 
fight.’’ 

“A fight it shall be, then. A little more muscle, boys. Ah ! we’ll 
get him now;’’ 

At that moment the rebel’s boat ran aground and stuck, and, as 
Hilton’s came near, our hero covered the enemy with his re- 
volver. 

“ You’ll surrender now, won’t you?’’ he said. 

“ Not much.’’ 

With these words the Confederate leaped from his boat and 
broke for shore, plunging through the water, slightly above his 
knees. 

Hilton did not hesitate a moment, but followed him in the same 
manner, making the race both exciting and ludicrous. 

All at once the rebel fell headlong and disappeared, but only for 
a moment. 

When he came to the top, after his sudden immersion, a hand 
clutched his collar, and Hilton pressed his revolver against his 
temple. 

“J thought old North Carolina never surrendered ?’’ exclaimed 
the triumphant Unionist. “ I guess you’ll violate the rule now and 
give up like a man.’’ 

For a moment the eyes of the man thus captured fairly flashed, 
but Hilton’s revolver cowed him into submission. 

“Blame me, if I don’t hate to bust the rule, Yankee,’’ he said ; 
“ but with that revolver ag’in my face, I guess I’ll have to.’’ 

“ Thai’s sense,’’ Hilton said. “Now come back to the boat.’’ 

“Which one?” 

“Not yours, by any means. What were you doing under our 
bows to-night ?’’j 

“ Tryin’ a little experiment of my own,’’ with a grim smile. 
“You’ve got an uncommon quantity of powder on your craft, 
Yank. I was goin’ to see how much noise it would make.’’ 

A shudder passed over Hilton’s frame. 

“You shall see, anyhow,’’ he said, and he led his prize through 


FORT FISHER. 47 

the water to his boat, into which he was lifted with very little 
ceremony. 

An examination of the Confederate’s boat revealed a lengthy 
fuse ready to be ignited, and a smile passed over his face while 
Hilton examined it. - 

“You couldn’t have got more than a mile away after lighting 
the fuse,’’ said Hilton to the rebel. “ That distance would not 
have saved you.’’ 

“ What are you givin’ me, Yank?’’ exclaimed the Confederate. 
“ How much powder have you got aboard ?’’ 

“ Four hundred thousand pounds.” 

“ Jehosaphat! enough to blow up the whole Confederacy. That’s 
what I call a wholesale powder boat.” 

When Hilton reached the Louisiana with his prisoner, a fire was 
kindled under her cabin at a place remote from the powder, and 
the fuses lighted for the terrific explosion. 

Hilton was the last person to leave the powder boat, and when 
he reached the deck of the Wilderness she steamed away rapidly, 
eager to get as far as possible from the spot before the explosion 
should occur. 

Twelve miles away the little steamer came to anchor, and officers 
and crew waited anxiously for the explosion. 

At two o’clock in the morning a rumbling noise came across the 
water, and a tremor passed through the Wilderness. 

“ That never singed the fort !” exclaimed the prisoner. “ When 
you Yanks charge it you’ll find somebody there to meet you. 
Picayune Butler’s powder boat is a humbug.” 

“ I believe you,” said Hilton, and exactly so it turned out. 

Morning came and showed Fort Fisher intact, with the fiag of 
the Confederacy floating above its strong parapet. 

The powder boat, destined to explode the magazine of the fort 
by concussion, had accomplished nothing, and Butler was forced 
to swallow his chagrin in silence. 

Porter, however, was not daunted by the failure, for at daylight 
his fleet stood in for shore, and his guns were ready to open on the 
enemy. 

“I’ll show them what I can do,” he said, and at half past eleven 
he hoisted the signal for a general attack, and blue and gray 
grappled once more. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

RIFLES AT TWENTY PACES. 

The formidable squadron which opened on Fort Fisher carried 
upward of four hundred guns. 

The roar froni the first was terrific, and the air was filled with 
hurtling globes of iron that fell like hail into the doomed fort. 

Doomed, we say, for Yankee courage had decreed that it should 
be taken. 


48 


FORT FISHER. 


The Ironsides opened the battle, and the Monadnock, Canonicus 
and Mahopac, which comprised the first line and were anchored 
about a length apart, added to the roar and the terror of the con- 
flict with their heavy guns. 

Behind the ironclads was a second line of battle ships consisting 
of heavy frigates, and in the rear of these was still another line, 
whose guns were among the best in the navy. 

The gunboat divisions were so stationed as to direct an enfilading 
fire on the rebel works, and were expected to accomplish great re- 
sults. 

For a time after the first onset, or while the fleet was getting into 
position, the guns of the fort replied with spirit to the heavy fire; 
but when the large frigates opened with their monster guns the 
Confederate batteries grew silent. 

The fire of the fleet was tremendous. 

It drove the rebel gunners to the bomb-proofs, and forced them 
to remain there, the only safe place in the fort. 

Hour after hour that deluge of fire and iron continued. 

Not for a single moment did it slacken. 

Porter seemed determined to pound Fort Fisher to pieces before 
Weitzel could come up with his land forces. 

If he could do this the glory would rest on the navy. 

Despite the bursting of Parrott guns on board his own vessels, 
the loyal admiral kept up the bombardment until the day wore 
away, and night again approached. 

Even then his guns did not stop. 

Sunset brought up General Butler in his flag-ship, accompanied 
by the transports containing the troops. 

Porter frowned at Butler’s tardiness, for the land attack could 
not take place that day. 

“Do you know what has just happened asked Ina Whitney, 
who had remained on the Malvern during the fight, as she came up 
to Hilton at the close of the engagement. 

“No, Ina.” 

“Dick has effected his escape,” was the reply. 

Hilton smiled. 

“ Well, let the fellow go,” he said. 

“ He carries with him to the fort no news that can benefit Gen- 
eral Whiting. But how did he escape?” 

“ No one seems to know. Certain it is that he is not on board 
the ship at this moment. One of the small boats is missing, and he 
is doubtless on shore by this time.” 

“ And he went off without bidding you good night, Ina? Ido 
not call him a very affectionate cousin.” 

“ I had no desire to bid him adieu, Harry. If he will remain 
away I shall be satisfied.” 

“ What ! you do not fear Dick Whitney, I hope?” cried Hilton, 
quickly. 


FORT FISHER. 


49 


“ I do not, but I do not wish to encounter mm again.” 

‘‘ As long as he stays on shore you shall not. To-morrow I will 
go ashore myself.” 

‘‘ You, Harry?” 

” Yes, with the troops. Weitzel has just come up and to-morrow 
the boys will be landed.” 

, Harry Hilton was eager to advance against the fort on the Neck, 
and quite ready to meet either Dick Whitney or Captain Davis 
there. 

It was expected that the army would be able to take it by as- 
sault, aided as it would be, by the fleet, but Fort Fisher was 
stronger than the loyal commanders counted it. 

It was true that Dick Whitney had effected his escape from the 
Malvern’s hold, for he suddenly appeared to General Whiting in 
the fort an hour after sunset. 

“Where’s your spy?” asked Whiting, a latent twinkle in his 
eyes as he addressed himself to Dick. “ Instead of taking him, I 
hear that he has captured a prize.” 

“Curse him, yes,” growled the rebel. “I’m willin’ to confess 
that he got ahead of me, but not for long.” 

“ How are you going to get him ? I can’t spare men enough to 
let you take him by force from the Yankee fleet.” 

“ I haven’t asked for a man.” 

“ No, of course not. I was just saying what I could not do.” 

Whitney was silent for a moment. 

“Well, I can take my spite out on the black rascal who helped 
the Yankee spy,” he suddenly exclaimed. “ I gave him twenty- 
five lashes once. I’ll make it an even hundred this time.” 

“You’ll have to catch him first.” 

“ What ?” 

“ He got away from the soldiers.” 

“ The deuce he did,” gasped Dick, as visions of vengeance began 
to fade. “ I feel like whippin’ somebody. General, I never was 
so mad in all my life.” 

“ Perhaps you would like to see Captain Davis, with whom I hear 
you are not on very good terms.” 

A cloud instantly darkened Whitney’s brow. 

‘‘ I’m free to confess that I don’t like a hair on his head,” he 
grated. “ Where is the captain ?” 

“ In the fort, of course, and at the post of duty. But I will not 
have a scene here. Captain Davis is a soldier serving the Confed- 
eracy, and his only fault in your eyes seems to be a good opinion 
of the girl you call your cousin.” 

“ That’s fault enough !” cried Whitney. “ Ina doesn’t like him, 
and he knows it, yet he will insult her with his intentions. The 
general’s got the best right to her, an’ I’m goin’ to stand by 
him.” 


50 


rOBT FISHER. 


“ From the look of affairs just now the Yankee spy seems to 
have the inside track,” smiled the commander of Fort Fisher. 

“ He’s got what he shall not keep,” ejaculated Dick. “ I say so, 
general, and I mean what I say. The Yanks are going to assault 
to-morrow, and I know that he will be foremost. To-morrow I 
propose to carry a rifle for the Confederacy, and bless me! if I 
don’t let daylight into his head.” 

Before General Whiting could reply, the door leading to his 
shot-proof quarters opened, and Dick Whitney recoiled with a 
start from the man in uniform, who had halted on the thresh- 
old. 

Instinctively General Whiting stepped forward as if he would 
place himself between the two men, but Whitney was too quick 
for him. 

^“Iwas just cursin’ you, Duke Davis!” he flashed, halting in 
front of the astonished visitor. ‘‘ You’re no gentleman, but a vil- 
lain, a disgrace to the cause you serve.” 

‘‘Liar !” was the epithet flung into Whitney’s teeth, as the rebel 
captain stepped back, and despite Whitney’s look, laid his hand on 
his sword. “There’s no love between us, Whiiney, and it does me 
good to brand you the meanest coward on the Neck.” 

A growl like that from an enraged tiger broke Whitney’s lips 
apart, and before the commander of the fort could restrain him, 
he threw himself forward, and crashed against Davis before the 
sword left its scabbard. 

All this was the work of a second, as it seemed. 

With the sudden meeting Whitney dealt the captain a blow that 
staggered him toward the door, but before he could follow the 
stroke with more violence, Whiting clutched his shoulder. 

“If you must fight, it shall not be here,” he said, eying both 
men at once. “ What do you say. Captain Davis?” - 

“ Oh, I’m willing to give him all the satisfaction he wants,” was 
the ready answer. “ History shall never record that I refused to 
spill his blood.” 

Whitney was separated from his enemy by General Whiting, and 
the two men again stood face to face, glaring at one another like 
rival lions. 

“ Hadn’t you better wait until after the Yankee attack ?” asked 
the Confederate general. 

“No! I want to settle this affair now,” said Whitney. 

“So do I,” responded the captain. “ To-morrow is Christinas. 
I want to whip only the Yankees then.” 

Whitney shot the speaker a fierce look, but made no reply, al- 
though at one time he seemed about to break out into a storm of 
epithets. 

General Whiting coolly took out his watch. 

“How would you fight?” he asked, addressing both men. 


FORT FISHFR. 

“ Tm not particular,” said the captain. “There has been no 
challenge, but I’ll make one.” 

An instant later he executed a quick movement toward Whit- 
ney, who, before he could put himself on guard, was struck a 
stunning blow with au open hand that almost lifted him off his 
feet. 

“ Now, sir, you challenge me and I’ll choose weapons,” con- 
tinued Davis, as Whitney recovered and glared at him with eyes 
that seemed balls of living fire. “You will find meat my com- 
pany quarters. I’ll accommodate you at any time; between this 
and morning if you wish.” 

Without another word. Captain Duke Davis turned on his heel 
and left the place before Whitney could speak. 

“He’s a devil !” were Dick’s first words as he sprung after his 
enemy before he had passed out of sight. “ Yes, coward, I do 
want to fight before daylight. You dare not stop and name place 
and weapons now.” 

A laugh was heard as Duke Davis turned quickly upon the rebel 
of the Neck. 

“ I’m always willing to oblige you,” he said, sarcastically. “T 
will fight you in the hollow back of Mound Battery, one hour 
from now. Rifies will be the weapons ; distance twenty paces. 
Does that suit you, sneak ?” 

Dick Whitney recoiled an inch. 

“Rifies at twenty paces. It’s downright murder, but I’ll be 
there,” was his reply. 

“ All right. I’m going to make this our first and last meeting,” 
said the captain, calmly ; and he added, as he looked at General 
Whiting : “ I’ll be at my post to-morrow when the Yankees come.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE CAPTAIN IS DOWNED. 

It was Christmas eve, the last one the Confederacy as a govern- 
ment was destined to see. 

Everywhere throughout Fort Fisher the rebel soldiers were busy 
repairing the damage done by Porter's monster guns. 

It was believed that the coming day would witness an assault by 
the land troops who had come up, and General Whiting was anx- 
ious to meet them with unimpaired breastworks. 

The silvery moon that hung suspended among the stars enabled 
the garrison to work with ease, and the men labored with a great 
deal of spirit. 

Every now and then shells would come hissing from the fleet in 
the inlet, but as they did no damage, not even frightening the 
men, the work went on unimpeded. 

General Whiting had a right to feel confident. 

The wounding of twenty-four men and the disabling of five gun-» 


52 


FORT FISHER. 


arriages comprised his casualities during the great bombardment. 

For twelve hours shells and solid shot had been hurled at the rate 
of four per second, and his losses were almost too slight to be men- 
tioned. 

Of his forty guns not one had been injured, and they stood ready 
to hurl death and destruction into the assaulting columns. 

“ I can’t spare Captain Davis, and the Confederacy can get along 
without Whitney,” mused General Whiting, when he found him- 
self alone in his cramped quarters after the departure of the two 
men who had resolved to fight a duel in the little hollow back of 
the Mound Battery. “ I am going to see the fight. Whitney is 
treacherous, and will take an advantage if he can. Of course a 
woman is at the bottom cf the whole affair, and a pretty woman at 
that, from what I hear.” 

As for Dick Whitney, a madder man than he|neverleft Whiting’s 
quarters. 

‘‘He says he will meet the Yankees to-morrow,” he hissed. “I 
will prove him a liar. He shall die to-night in the hollow. Don’t 
I know that he wants to kill me in order to win Ina in the end? 
That is as plain as the nose on a man’s face. Shall he doit, Dick? 
Shall he drop you at twenty paces and get the girl at last ? By my 
soul! he shall not. I send this oath aloft to be recorded in 
Heaven!” 

Dick Whitney was about to leave the fort when he heard his 
name spoken from behind, and turning he saw a man hurrying 
forward. 

The next moment the twain met. 

“Mose Mosong!” ejaculated Dick. “What brings you here? 
Are you looking for another brace of hounds ?” 

“ No, but I want pay for the ones the Tar-heel conscript killed, 
and I’m going to have it, too.” 

The eyes of the speaker fairly fiashed while he spoke. 

He was a gaunt fellow, with a pair of evil eyes and a face as dark 
as a mulatto’s. 

This man was well known all over the Neck, as the owner of the 
best bloodhounds in the old North State, but, as we have seen, the 
revolver of Bob Nichols, the conscript, had deprived him of his 
ferocious dogs, greatly to the joy of every negro on the penin- 
sula. 

“Youcan’tgetpay for those dogs, Mose,” said Whitney, eying 
the sand-hiller. 

“Why can’t I? The man who killed them belonged to the 
service.” 

“ But we weren’t hunting him when the dogs met their death. 
We were after the Yankee spy.” 

“ I don’t care. I’m going to have something for those dogs— 
money or blood!” 

“ Blood means vengeance, eh ?” 


FORT FISHER. 




“ That’s just what it means. Where’s the general 

“ Don’t bother him now,” and Whitney laid his hand on Mose’s 
arm. “Wait till to-morrow and I'll help you. The general’s not 
in the best of humor now, and I’m in a fix that demands help.” 

“You, Dick?” exclaimed Mosong. 

“ Indeed I am, Mose, and you’re the very fellow to help me. By 
George I I’m lucky to find you here.” 

“ What’s the matter ?” 

“ I’ve got a duel on my hands.” 

“ No.” 

“ It’s a hard, cold fact. I’m going to fight a man who has chosen 
a weapon which he knows how to handle.” 

“ The revolver?” 

“ No, the rifle. It’s to be rifles at twenty paces, Mose.” 

Mose Mosong started back with a low whistle. 

“ That’s my weapon, Dick,” he said. “I wish the fellow, who 
ever he is, had tackled me. Rifles at twenty paces, hey? It’s 
devilish close work ; but a chap what understand his business can 
get in the accidental shot just afore the signal.” 

“ You could, Mose, but I’d fail at that game,” said Whitney. “ I 
hate Captain Davis so that I would have accepted his challenge if 
he had said rifles at ten feet.” 

“ Captain Davis ! Is he the man you’re to flght ?” 

“ Duke Davis. See here. If it had not been for him, you would 
still have your dogs.” 

“How so?” asked the sand-hiller, eagerly. 

“ Bob Nichols wanted Captain Davis to recommend him for dis- 
charge, and because Davis wouldn’t do it Bob took to the 
swamps.” 

“ And consequently killed my hounds?” 

“ Of course.” 

“ I see. Captain Davis is at the bottom of the whole thing. By 
George! I could fight him without a yard between us! Let me 
take your place, Dick. There’ll be no failure then.” 

“ I can’t do that,” was the reply. “ I am going down to the hol- 
low, and if somebody would shoot the captain from behind a sand 
heap which is there, your dogs would be avenged.” 

“ That’s a fact, Dick ; but do you think somebody will do that?” 

“ Of course not. There isn’t much risk to run, of course, but no- 
body hates Captain Davis as I do.” 

Mose was silent for a moment. 

“ When do you fight?” he suddenly asked. 

“ As soon as I can get a rifle that suits me.” 

“ I’d lend you mine, but I may want to use it myself,” said the 
dog fancier, in significant tones. “Who’s your second ?” 

“ I’m not going to take any.” 

“ The cgptain will.” 


.“U Font FJsHnn. 

“ I don’t care if he brings a dozen to the hollow. I am satisfled 
now that they will do him no good.” 

“That’s just the idea I have of it,” said Mosong. “Dick, you 
said awhile ago that you were in trouble and that I could help 
you. I guess you don’t want me to ask how now, I know. If you 
want me to show you how to deliver the accidental shot I’ll do 
it ” 

“No. I’d fail with it, I tell you,” was the quick interruption. 
“ I’m satisfied with things as they are. When will I see you again, 
Mose.” 

“ I don’t know. I’ve concluded not to press my dog claim this 
trip, but I’ll get even with the man who had ’em killed.” 

That last sentence was enough. 

It kindled Dick’s eyes and made them flash triumphantly. 

When the two men seperated the rebel of the Neck stood still 
and watched Mose Mosong walk toward the famous Mound Bat- 
tery. 

“ I was lucky to meet him here,” he murmured. “Nowl am 
not afraid to meet Captain Davis with rifles at twenty paces. For- 
tune is playing the cards for me, and you will not meet the Yanks 
to-morrow, captain.” 

Not until the figure of the sand-hiller had vanished from his 
sight did Dick desert the spot. 

Then he made his way to a certain part of the fort where he met 
a number of men who recognized him, among them the sergeant 
who had led the squad against Harry Hilton in the swamp. 

“Sergeant,” said Dick, “I want to borrow a rifle.” 

“ Who’s to be hunted to-night ?” exclaimed the soldier. 

“ Better game than a iTankee spy. Can you get me a gun ?” 

“ Yes, and one that will suit shoulder and eye. How many 
rounds with it?” 

“One!” 

The sergeant walked away, but soon returned with a military 
rifle which he placed in Dick’s hands. 

“ Thanks,” said Whitney. “ If I don’t bring the gun back my- 
self it will be returned by other hands,” and leaving the sergeant 
to stare blankly at him, he walked away with the weapon resting 
in the hollow of his left arm. 

With an expression expressive of triumph on his face, Dick Whit- 
ney hurried towardjthe dueling ground, which was several hundred 
yards from the spot where he had borrowed the gun. 

The moon threw a silvery radiance on the sand, and burnished 
the billows that danced in the inlet. 

It was a beautiful night, calm and pleasant despite the season, 
but Dick’s heart was not in accord with nature. 

As he went down into the little hollow selected for the dueling 
ground he glanced toward the right, where several little hillocks of 
sand rose above the level surface. 


FORT FISHER. 


55 


All at once he started slightly and his eyes glittered. 

“ It’s all righ^, Captain Davis,” he said, in low tones. “Now I 
know you will not help repulse the Yankees to-morrow.” 

Why had he spoken so positively ? 

Perhaps he had caught sight of the human-shaped figure lying 
behind one of the hills. 

Scarcely had Whitney reached the middle of the hollow ere he 
was joined by three men, one of whom stood apart from the others 
and kept his face concealed. 

“1 know you. General Whiting,” said Dick to himself, as he eyed 
this individual. “ One can easily tell on whose side you are to- 
night.” 

The other men were Captain Davis and a lieutenant whom Whit- 
ney did not know. 

The Confederate captain, like Dick, was armed with a rifle, and 
the only cartridge he seemed to possess was already in the barrel. 

“Where’s your second?” asked the lieutenant, stepping up to 
Dick. 

“I never thought to bring one,” he answered. “I am satisfied 
that the fight is to be fair.” 

“ Of course it is, but men who fight duels always have seconds. 

“ I don’t want any. It is to be rifles at twenty paces. If Captain 
Davis is ready, place us and give the signal.” 

A strange impatience seemed to be devouring Whitney, and he 
sent more than one glance toward the sand hill behind whieh a 
man was lying. 

“Yes, place us, lieutenant,” said Davis. “I am quite ready. 
Twenty paces apart, back to back. At the signal we whirl and fire. 
I trust Mr. Whitney knows that I seldom miss.” 

“ And Captain Davis will discover to-night that other men be- 
sides him know how to handle the rifle.” 

The emphasis of the Carolinian’s words, although not noted when 
spoken, were destined to return with force to certain minds before 
long. 

The lieutenant proceeded to place the two duelists back to back, 
twenty feet apart. 

“Heavens! what a target for him !” muttered Dick, as he glanced 
over his shoulder at his enemy. “ He faces the sandhill, and has 
the moon in his face. What is he waiting for ?” 

“ Ready, gentlemen ?” was heard the voice of the lieutenant. 

The clicking of two rifle-locks replied. 

“ The signal shall be the word ‘ three.’ I am going to count now. 
One— two ” 

The third numeral was. trembling on the young Confederate’s 
lips wken the crack of a rifle broke the nocturnal stillness, and 
(^aptain Davis reeled backward with a cry. 

“Who did that?” exclaimed Whitney, rushing forward. “ I al- 
low no private enemy to interfere with my duel.” 


56 


FORT FISHER. 


AS for General Whiting and the lieutenant they thought only of 
Davis, and were already at his side. 

“ I know where that shot came from,” continued Dick, in lou(^ 
tones, as he ran toward the sand heap. “ I’ll bore the infernal 
shooter through if I get sight of him.” 

At that moment a man sprung up from behind the sandpile, and 
darted away like a deer. 

“Halt, there!” rung out Whitney’s voice, as his rifle struck his 
shoulder; but of course the command was not obeyed, and he 
sent a bullet after the fugitive. 

“You didn’t even hear the whistle of that, Mose,”hesaid to him- 
self, as he went back to the little group in the center of the 
hollow. 

General Whiting eyed Dick closely as he came up, and turned 
his head as he stooped over the man, gasping on the ground. 

“ What’s the chances ?” he asked of the lieutenant. 

“ That’s for the surgeon to determine.” 

“Where is he?” 

“At the fort.” 

“ Why didn’t you bring him along ?” 

“Because ” 

“ I see,” interrupted Dick. “You thought I wouldn’t need a 
doctor. That fellow behind the sandpile did just what I was going 
to do: he shot to kill,” and with a parting look at Captain Davis, 
Dick Whitney rose and walked away. 


CHAPTER XV. 

A DARING EXPLOIT. 

Groaning in cramped quarters within Fort Fisher lay a handsome 
Confederate officer over whom the grizzled surgeon in attendance 
was shaking his head. 

“ That fellow shot to kill and no mistake,” the doctor said. “ The 
wonder is that the captain’s not stiff and cold by this time. 1 don’t 
know whether I can bring him through or not, but I’ll try. There 
go the Yankee guns again.” 

It was the early dawn of another day, at once Sabbath and 
Christmas. 

Everybody in the rebel forts on the peninsula expected a com- 
bined attack by Porter and Butler, and all were consequently on 
the alert. 

In a short time after the flrst gun startled the surgeon over the 
desperately wounded man, who had been brought to him from the 
hollow near the Mound Battery, the whole fleet opened once more 
on Fort Fisher. 

Admiral Porter seemed determined to increase the damage his 
guns had inflicted the day before, and his Are soon proved that he 
was capable of doing this. 


Port fishek. 57 

All through the forenoon the terrible roar of the guns went on 
without a minute’s intermission. 

The whole fleet, gunboats included, assaulted the Confederate 
woiks, killing men on every side, and knocking gun-carriages and 
guns right and left. 

For the first time General Whiting began to lose heart. 

At last the military began to land. 

Under cover of the cannon of the fleet about twenty-three hun- 
dred men were landed, and a party of five hundred led by Weitzel 
in person advanced upon the fort. 

This was nothing more than a reconnoitering column, and it 
consisted of troops from Curtis’ brigade of Ames’ division. 

The landing had been effected some distance above Fort Fisher, 
and, covered by the fire of twelve gunboats, it advanced along the 
beach with the coolness of veterans. 

The ground over which the little column pushed threatened to 
prove a pathway of death, for report said that it was the burial 
ground of countless torpedoes. 

“ What do you say about this ground?” asked General Weitzel of 
Harry Hilton, whom he had summoned to his side. 

“ There are none here. I am sure of it,” was the reply. 

“ That is good,” responded the youthful general. “If we are 
not molested we shall soon gain the parapet of the fort.” 

Hilton looked proudly toward the frowning works. 

As he did so his eyes kindled. 

Over them floated the flag of the Confederacy, its folds flapping 
defiantly in the cool stiff breeze blowing at the time, as if it dared 
the little army of bluecoats to attempt its capture. 

Hilton marked it well, and smiled as he walked back to his post 
of duty. 

On, on moved the heroic column, their muskets glittering in the 
rays of the winter’s sun. 

Suddenly it turned slightly aside and captured Half-Moon Bat- 
tery and two hundred and eighteen men of the Third North Caro- 
lina Junior Reserves, including its young commander; then on 
again toward the fort itself. 

Still the guns of the fleet rained a very tempest of iron upon the 
rebel works, keeping the men in the bomb-proofs and preventing 
them from using their guns. 

For a few moments it looked as if the bluecoats were destined to 
capture the fort itself, for when they had pushed to within two 
hundred yards of the rebel works General Weitzel sprung upon a 
knoll and coolly surveyed the fortifications. 

The man who stood beside Weitzel was Hilton himself, and he 
pointed out the different batteries while the shells of the navy flew 
above their heads. 

All at once a bullet whistled between the heads of the two 


men. 


58 


FORT FISHER. 


“ That is Dick Whitney’s compliments, I gtiess,” laughed Hilton. 
“ Failing to catch me in the swamp, he expects to down me with a 
bullet.” 

“The fellow who fired that shot took risks,” said Weitzel. 

“ Dick Whitney is the man to take them. What! another? May 
be safety demands our presence elsewhere.” 

“ When I have counted the guns,” was the cool reply. 

General Weitzel then proceeded to count the exposed guns of the 
fort, and did not think of abandoning the knoll until the operation 
had been completed. 

The failure to hit either of the officers must be ascribed to the 
poor marksmanship of the person who fired the shot. 

If Mose Mosong had worked the gun, one of the twain would 
have paid the penalty of his daring with his life. 

As the little column which had advanced with so much bravery 
kept on, the flag of the fort was struck by a shell, and the next in- 
stant a solid shot cut the staff in twain. 

A wild cry rose from the throats of the Union troops. 

“ I will have it ?” exclaimed Hilton, under his breath. “I will 
show the rebels that the Yankee spy they want so badly is not 
afraid to enter the fort.” 

Several minutes later the young lieutenant had placed himself at 
the head of the picket line. 

“ Who will follow me ?” he cried, facing the enthusiastic men. 
“ Boys if you follow, we will have that flag.” 

Away he went, followed by the bluecoats, whom he led toward 
the sally port of the work before them. 

Those who looked on held their breath. 

Not more than half a dozen soldiers were at Hilton’s back when 
he, who had outstripped them all, mounted the parapet in full 
view of the grinning cannon of the' fort itself. 

“He’s gone!” ejaculated Weitzel, who was watching the daring 
feat. “ He will never get the flag. Not one of those brave fellows 
will come back alive.” 

Weitzel had not counted fully on the lieutenant’s daring. 

Once upon the parapet, he would have rushed into the fort itself 
for the flag. 

Nothing but death could have kept him back. 

Suddenly, with an exclamation of triumph, he shot toward the 
banner lying on the ground behind the parapet, and the next 
second he had dropped beside it. 

It was the work of a moment to snatch up the flag and wrap it 
about his body ; then he leaped for the parapet again. 

As he scaled it a loud voice assailed his ears. 

“Halt! you infernal Yankee!” 

Hilton turned to see a soldier with leveled musket. 

The muzzle of the weapon did not seem thirty feet away. 

Hilton, with a shout of defiance, did not obey the summons, but 


FORT FISHER. 59 

sprung down the other side of the parapet as a bullet sent his hat 
flying from his head. 

The next moment the entire parapet seemed lined with the sol- 
diers who held it despite the very shells that were bursting above 
it by scores. 

“The Union forever!” cried Hilton to the menace of the guns 
leveled at him, and the following second the explosion of a sixty- 
pound shell on the walk of the parapet cleared it effectually of 
rebel forms before a musket could bring him down. 

It was a daring feat, and one that sent a thrill to the heart of 
every witness. 

As the loyal lieutenant ran toward the bluecoated column, he 
waved aloft the prize his bravery had secured, and the hearty 
cheers that greeted him were reward enough. 

Instead of following Hilton’s exploit with an assault. General 
Weitzel ordered the column to be withdrawn, and the brave men 
who had almost reached the fort went back. 

Even though Curtis’ advance had not been resisted, the sudden 
facing about was a stroke of good generalship under the circum- 
stances. 

General Weitzel knew that the silence of the garrison was due to 
the firing of the fleet, and he feared that an advance into the fort 
would result in the capture of General Curtis and his entire com- 
mand. 

Night was fast settling down upon the scene just described when 
the Union forces went back to the sea. 

Not beaten or repulsed were they, but their commanders had 
decided that Port Fisher could not be taken b}’^ assault. 

“ It will yet be taken by a charge,” said Hilton, as he looked to- 
ward the fort. “ Grant will not be satisfied with this failure. He 
will send another general here who will reduce the place. May I 
come back with him and show General Whiting the face of the 
spy he wants to hang I” 

Thus the twenty-fifth of December closed upon the first attempt 
to reduce Fort Fisher. 

The troops went back to the transports in bad humor and cha- 
grined. 

“ The next general sent hither will not be Butler,” they said. 

Their words were words of prophecy. 

Grant was a soldier who could not be conquered by disaster and 
timid ofiBcers. 

He had determined that Fort Fisher should be taken. 

If Weitzel had failed, there was another general who would pot* 

West Point had not given him to the war. 

He was a brave citizen soldier. 

His nanie was AHred H. Terry. 


60 


FORT FISHER. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE WELCOME HOME. 

The failure of Butler and Weitzel to take Fort Fisher was re- 
garded as a triumph by the Confederacy. 

General Bragg issued a bombastic congratulatory order, in which 
the officers and men of the fort were highly complimented. 

The truth of the whole matter is, that the bombproofs sheltered 
the garrison during the shelling by the fleet, and the “ bravery ” 
and “ valor” mentioned in Bragg’s order, meant the hiding of sol- 
diers out of harm’s way. 

More than twenty thousand shell and solid shot had been thrown 
into the fort by Porter’s fifty vessels, entailing on the sheltered 
enemy the insigniflcant loss of three killed and flfty-flve wounded i 

The Union admiral was nettled, not to say indignant, at Butler’s 
withdrawal. 

He believed that under cover of the tremendous Are he was capa- 
ble of bestowing upon the enemy, the fort could have been taken 
by assault, and at one time he offered to carry it with his sailors. 

There was some sharp and sarcastic correspondence on the sub- 
ject of the failure between Butler and Porter, in which the latter 
came off best ; but Butler had resolved that Port Fisher could not 
be taken, much to the disgust of the whole North. 

Among those who deeply regretted the disgraceful end of the 
expedition was the foremost character in our romance — Harry 
Hilton, the bluecoat spy. 

He could hardly control his indignation when he learned that 
the transports carrying the land troops had been ordered back to 
Portress Monroe. 

He was satisfied, however, that another attempt to reduce the 
fort would soon be made, and secretly resolved to take part in it if 
possible. 

Just as the transports were about to bid adieu io the fleet, a 
beautiful girl came to Hilton’s side and smiled as she looked up 
into his face. 

“ Do you think I am venturing into the lion’s den when I go 
back to Cousin Dick’s?” she asked. 

The young spy started. 

“ You are not going to do that?” exclaimed Harry. “ I thought 
you were going with us.” 

“No. I have decided to go back to the Neck. As I told you last 
night, Dick Whitney posse ses a secret which concerns me, and I 
must know it.” 

“ Do you think you can worm it from his bosom ?” 

“ I can try.” 

“ And you can fail, too, Ina. Dick Whitney can guard a secret 
well.” 


FORT FISHER. 61 

“ Let me have my way, Harry. I will be here when you return, 
for Admiral Porter says you will come back.” 

“ Brave old admiral ! Yes, we will come back with another gen- 
eral ; but with the same troops who can and will reduce Fort 
Fisher. You will be persecuted if you remain here, Ina.” 

“I?” 

“ Yes. Your loyalty is well known now. Dick hates me so cor- 
dially that he will not hesitate to strike me through you.” 

“ Let him try it!” and Ina Whitney’s eyes flashed resentfully, 
“lam a woman, Harry ; but Dick will learn if he deals a blow that 
even a woman can strike back.” 

Hilton remonstrated no longer, for he saw that the girl was de- 
termined to go back to the house on the sand knoll, and ere he re- 
turned to his company, he bade her good-by. 

It was ten o’clock that same night when Dick Whitney and 
another man who were having a quiet game of cards at a rough 
table in the sand-hill home were startled by a gentle rapping on the 
door. 

“ Mebbe they’ve found me out,” exclaimed Dick’s companion, 
as he sprung up, overturning a chair. 

“They haven’t— there,” was the assuring reply. “Calm your- 
self, Mose. I’ll ’tend to the door.” 

A lengthy stride took Dick to the portal, and the next moment 
his bronze hand had opened it. 

“ Great Caesar’s ghost!” he exclaimed, starting back as if he had 
been confronted by the apparition he had just named. “ What in 
the name of Heaven brought you here?” 

Mose Mosong— for Dick’s companion was the owner of the 
bloodhounds— came forward with curiosity in his eyes. 

“ Hang me if it isn’t Ina,” he said to himself. “ She didn’t go off 
with the Yanks. Seems to me if I war in her shoes, I’d have 
stayed away from hyar.” 

“ Come in, girl. This is the same old house,” continued Dick, 
recovering somewhat from his surprise, but in ill-humor while he 
eyed Ina like a hawk. “ I’ve got a friend with me to-night, but 
that makes no difference. Come in. I’m glad to see you.” 

Glad to see her? 

Was Dick Whitney telling the truth ? 

Yes, he was pleased to see the one who had come back. 

He was afraid that she would go off with the fleet, and deprive 
“ the general ” of his conquest. 

If she had loved Captain Davis he would not have said a word 
against her going away under the stars and stripes, but she des- 
pised the Confederate with the same intensity that stirred his 
(Dick’s) heart toward him. 

Then, Ina had never professed any love for “the general,” who 
a handsome rniddle-aged officer in Lee’s army; butheanci 


62 


FORT FISHER. 


Dick had put their heads together and entered into a compact, 
which the sand-hill Confederate was very desirous of keeping. 

Dick’s surprise when he opened the door and found Ina on the 
stoop was genuine. 

“ I’ve got her in my clutches again,” flashed through his mind. 
“ This time I will see that she minds me.” 

In response to his welcome, the girl, without changing color, 
stepped into the room. 

She knew Dick Whitney only too well. 

His blandness and verbanity could not deceive her. 

lua bowed to Mose as their eyes met, and Dick, by way of in- 
troduction, informed her that it was Mr. Mosong, his friend, from 
“ ’tother side the swamp.” 

Ina at once begun to make herself at home. 

The little room she was wont to occupy when Dick’s guest, stood 
at the left of the door she had entered, and a moment after the 
rough introduction she had passed into it and closed the door be-r 
hind her. 

“Smash my picters, Dick, ef she hasn’t come back,” said Mose» 
in low tones as he glided to Whitney’s side and laid his hand on his 
arm. 

“ I didn’t think she ever would, but she’s hyer,” was the response, 
and Dick’s eyes could not conceal the delight his own words gave 
him. 

“ Mebbe we’d better drop the game for to-night. I expect you 
want ter quiz the gal.” 

Mose glanced at the cards that lay on the table as he spoke, and 
then looked at his friend. 

“I’ve got a few questions to ask her, that’s a fact,” said Dick. 

Drop down again to-morrow night, Mose. Mebbe I’ll have some 
news from the fort. He’ll have a terrible tussle of it if he gits up.” 

Mose Mosong grinned and showed some discolored teeth. 

“ Mebbe it’ll hev ter be done over,” he whispered, after which 
he made a dive for a slouch hat that lay on the floor, crushed it 
upon his head, and walked out without so much as a good-night, 
leaving Dick Whitney alone. 

For several moment’s after Mose’s departure Dick stood where 
his visitor had left him, with no signs of life anywhere about him 
save in his eyes that still blazed with triumph. 

All at once, as if a certain sound had struck his ear, he stepped 
to the door of Ina’s room and applied his ear to it. 

Not a noise of any kind rewarded him, but he remained several 
minutes at the portal in an attitude which indicated that he was 
holding his breath. 

“She ain’t asleep a’ready,” he said to himself. “ Ina hasn’t gone 
to bed, and I know it. I’ll look inside if it kills me.” 

Perhaps Dick knew that the door stood slightly ajar, although 
the girl had closed it on entering the room, 


FORT FIBSER. ^ 

At anyrate he laid his hand on the latch and lifted it gently 
open. 

For awhile he saw no one, for the interior of the little North 
Carolina boudoir was quite dark; but he presently caught sight of 
a figure at the only window it contained, and a puff of air told him 
that the window was open. 

Ina seemed to be intent on a mission of some kind at the open 
window. 

Her silence coupled with her attitude at once aroused uick’s 
curiosity, and with the stealthy tread of a tiger he stepped across 
the room. 

The next moment he was looking over the girl’s shoulder out 
into the night where the starlight fell upon the sound, but he saw 
nothing suspicious. 

Totally unaware of his presence, the girl did not move until his 
hand dropped upon her shoulder. 

Then it was that she wheeled upon him with a startling cry, 
which was responded to with a mocking laugh. 

“ Pardon me, if I have broken your dreams, Ina,” said Dick. 
“ I’m so glad you’ve come back that I had to tell you again.” 

In an instant the loyal girl was calm. 

It was wonderful. 

“ And I am glad to get back to your house. Cousin Dick,” she 
said. “I’ve seen enough of the Yankees to suit me for some 
time.” 

Dick’s look at once became a stare. 

“You don’t mean to tell me, Ina, that your visit to the ships has 
converted you over to the Confederacy?” he exclaimed. 

“Time will show what it has done,” was the answer. “ Cousin 
Dick, there isn’t a Yankee soldier on the Neck to-night.” 

“ Not a Yank ! The old fiag of the Confederacy waves over the 
fort in spite of Yankee Porter’s guns.” 

Dick Whitney’s voice proclaimed the intense joy his own words 
caused him. 

But the best of it all was that Ina had given up her Union prin- 
ciples. and was, like him, devoted to the Confederacy.” 

He did not not doubt her conversion, and in the exuberance of 
his joy he felt like folding the fair girl to his bosom. 

“By my soul, Ina, you make me glad !” he cried. “I never 
thought your Yankee principles were deep-rooted. You are wel- 
come to this house. Stay here as long as you wish. If I ever in- 
sulted you, forgive me, I didn’t mean it.” 

Ina Whitney smiled, and gave her hand to the hottest rebel of 
the Neck, who, while he held it, looked into her eyes, but saw no 
deception there. 


64 


PORT? FISHER. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE SWAMP WHIP. 

As the days wore on Whitney seemed to have abundant proof of 
Ina’s loyalty to the Confederacy. 

The year of 1864, with its sanguinary battles and rivers of blood, 
had drawn to a close at last, and the first month of the new year — 
rebellion’s last— was moving along.J 

Rumors of another Union expedition against Fort Fisher had 
been revived, but the rebels were confident that it could be beaten 
off, and rendered more disastrous than the first had been. 

The various defenses on the Neck had been strengthened ; the 
fort itself had received reinforcements, and General Whiting was 
anxious to meet the Union army once more. 

Dick Whitney’s visitors were few, and not very choice ones. 

Chief among them was Mose Mosong, between whom and Dick 
there seemed a bond of unity that bound them together as with 
bands of brass. 

“ Where’s Dick ?” inquired the dark-faced owner of the blood- 
hounds one night as he entered the house without knocking and 
confronted Ina, who least expected him. 

“He will be here presently,’’ was the answer. 

“ Are you alone ?” 

“Yes.” 

A strange look kindled Mose’s eyes. 

“Aren’t you afraid to stay hyar by yerself?’’ he asked, with a 
grin. 

“ Why should I be ?’’ 

“ ’Cause the Yanks ar’ back.’’ 

Ina started. 

“I expect they think they’ll do big things this time,” Mose went 
on. “ Thar’s a whippin’ in store for ’em— a bigger one than they 
got afore. Thar’s a whippin’ about ter take place in the swamp 
ter-night. That’s what I want ter see Dick for. We want him thar, 
you see. Tell ’im, when he comes back, ef he comes within the 
next thirty minutes. We’ll be at the Twin Trees. Dick knows 
whar that is. Good-night, miss.” 

Having thus delivered himself, Mose darted from the house, leav- 
ing Ina to wonder who was to be whipped that night at the Twin 
Trees. 

Before she could interrogate the rebel, even if she had wished to 
do so, he was beyond the sound of her voice, and she was left to 
imagine him hastening back to the rendezvous. 

The inhabitants of that portion of the Carolina peninsula con- 
tiguous to Fort Fisher were, without exception. Confederates in 
thought and action. 

Ina could not recall one who was loyal to the old flag. 

2 


PORT PISHER. 


66 


Not a single one ? 

Ah ! there was one whom she overlooked. 

Ten minutes passed away, but Dick did not come. 

Ina waited ten more, and they proved him still absent. 

“ Mose Mosong and his companions wouldn’t lift a hand against 
a Confederate,” she suddenly said, giving utterance to her 
thoughts. “They are going to whip somebody whom they hate 
for his devotion to the old flag I am going to see who it is.” 

It was scarcely ten minutes’ walk to the edge of the swamp near- 
est the house on the knoll, and Ina was soon hastening over the 
ground. 

She more than half believed that Mose had intercepted Dick 
while the latter was returning home, for it was past Dick’s prom- 
ised hour, 

All at once as Ina neared the swamp she caught sight of a light 
that blazed among the trees. 

It was intense and very bright, and as she advanced she thought 
she detected the figures of men between her and the fire. 

The intricate pathways of the swamp were not wholly unknown 
to her. 

On more than one occasion she had threaded them on little ex- 
cursions that had helped to enliven her sojourn on the Neck, and 
the place of the Twin Trees was a familiar spot. 

Intent on surprising the rebels at their self-imposed task, Ina 
advanced into the swamp without much noise, her ears greeted 
with the sounds of coarse voices, and her eyes seeing the figures of 
a dozen uncouth men. 

As she drew nearer and took up her station in the shadow of a 
tree, a part of whose trunk was revealed by the fire, she saw a sight 
which will never leave her memory. 

Strapped to a small tree, and naked from the waist up, was a 
stalwart negro. 

His jet-black skin fairly shone in the firelight. 

Around him stood at least a dozen men uncouth in dress and for- 
bidding in expression, each one a hardened desperado ; men famil- 
iar with the whip, and as merciless as thugs. 

Not one of these bronze fellows had had courage enough to en- 
ter the Confederate army and fight for the “ liberty ” they prated 
so much about. 

They had escaped conscription by flying from remote parts of 
North Carolina to the Neck, where they had lived after a manner 
moye than questionable as regards honesty. 

Only one of them Ina knew by sight. 

This man was Mose Mosong, who had joined the group only a 
few minutes in advance of her, and he was assuring his compan- 
ions that Dick Whitney would heartily approve of the whipping 
it was proposed to give the darky. 

“ Go on with the job,” suddenly blurted one of the men. “ What’s 


fORO? FISHER. 


C6 

the use of waitin’ another minute for Dick ? Mose thar kin handle 
the lash as well as Dick could. I’ll warrant him ter start blood 
ther first crack. I’ve seen Mose cut black leather afore.” 

“ Yes, go on with the cuttin’!” chorused the rest, and the late 
owner of the bloodhounds put out his hand for the immense cat- 
o’-nine-tails which one of the rebels held. 

“ Dick er not, I’ll dress ’im down,” he said with fiendish glee, as 
he clutched the whip and sent its lashes through the air in a man- 
ner which told the breathless girl that he had used it on human 
backs before. 

During this time the negro moved not a muscle, but the vivid 
firelight showed Ina that he had shut his teeth hard and nerved 
himself for the first blow. 

“Now, you black serpent, when you help a Yankee spy off 
again you’ll know it,” said Mose, stepping toward the victim. 
“We’ll give you fifty before Dick Comes, and when he gets 
hyar, we’ll let him finish you.” 

The first words had sent a strange thrill to Ina’s heart. 

They revealed the negro’s identity. 

It was Gump, the loyal black, who had befriended Hilton in the 
midst of the swamp. 

Although he had escaped from his captors the night of Hilton’s 
escape, he had fallen into the hands of men ten times worse than 
the soldiers. 

The latter might spare, but there wasn’t a spark of mercy in the 
sand-hillers’ hearts. 

“They shan’t draw your blood, my brave fellow,” fell from 
Ina’s lips, as she stepped from the sheltering tree. “ You helped 
Harry in his hour of need, and I will help you in yours.” 

“Now, stand back, boys, and give my arm full swing!” cried 
Mose Mosong’s voice, at this juncture. “ I’m in the whippin’ hu- 
mor to-night, for every blow I strike counts one for the Confed- 
eracy !” 

The men had already drawn back, and the dog fancier, with his 
right arm bared to the elbow, raised the whip. 

“ Now fer the first blow, nigger!” 

The next moment the terrible lashes were in the air, but just 
then alight figure leaped into the firelight, and a “ halt !” almost 
too stern for a woman’s tongue, struck the ears of all. 

“Jehosaphatl Ina Whitney !” gasped Mose, starting back with 
his eyes riveted upon the intruder. “Stand aside, girl, and I’ll 
show you the neatest job of tannin’ ever done in North Caro- 
lina I” 

“ You will not, sir,” was the instant response. “ Down with that 
whip, and stand where you are, men. This negro is not going to 
be whipped to-night.” 

Did the rebels see the revolver that hung from the girl’s right 
hand ? 


FORT FISHER. 


67 


Maybe Moae did not, for he laughed, and said : 

“ It’s no joke, Ina. This nigger’s the one that helped the Yankee 
spy off some time ago, I’m goin’ ter cut his back inter fringe 
work. Just step aside. We know you’re all right. Here goes !” 

Up went the whip again. 

“ Drop that whip or I’ll send a bullet through your head ! I’m 
here to save, and perhaps to kill!” 

The rebels with one accord recoiled from the cocked revolver 
that looked them in the face. 

Behind it were two flashing eyes. 

Mose Mosong, with an oath, dropped the bloodless whip. 

“ Now, sir, cut your victim loose,” continued Ina. 

The rebel shut his lips and hesitated. 

“ Cut him loose!’? 

Ina’s voice told that the command would not be spoken the 
third time. 

^llenly the mad man whipped out the knife that hung in a 
leather sheath from his belt and advanced upon the negro. 

Three strokes served to set the victim free, and with profuse 
thanks forming on his tongue, Gump turned to bless hisrescuer. 

“ No thanks now,” said Ina. “ Get away from here.” 

The negro did not hesitate a moment, but sprung away and fled 
from the spot like a chased deer. 

They all listened, the discomfited set with glowering looks, but 
Ina with triumph in her eyes. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE DEATH-SHOTS. 

“Hang me! if the Yankees haven’t come back,” exclaimed a 
man who suddenly made his appearance at Dick Whitney’s house 
a short time after Ina’s rescue of Gump, the negro, from the “ cat” 
of the merciless sand-hillers. 

It was Dick himself, and the only person who heard his words 
was Ina, who affected to be surprised by the intelligence, although, 
as we know, it had already been communicated to her by 
Mosong. 

Dick as yet knew nothing about the rescue in the swamp, and 
the girl had resolved to let him find it out for himself, a discovery 
which could not be long delayed. 

“ Thar’s one thing that worries me more than the Yanks com- 
ing back,” continued Dick. “ He's going to get over his hurt.” 

“ Who, Dick?” asked Ina, quickly. 

“ Don’t you know that I shot a man three weeks ago ? No, 1 
didn’t shoot him myself, but I would have done it if somebody else 
hadn’t taken the job off m^ hands. He’s up and about again, and 
he’s going to get over it, The next time, Captain Davis, I’ll fight 
pay own duels,” 


68 


FORT FISHER. 


“It was Captain Davis, then?” said Ina. “Who shot him, 
Dick ?” 

•’Somebody in whose aim I had confidence. He said he never 
missed. Well, he didn’t miss, but he failed to kill. That’s just as 
bad. Ina, what do you think of the captain, anyhow ?” 

“You know, Dick.” 

“ Well, how do you and the general stand ?” 

“ General Noble and I are friends.” 

“ Is that all ?” asked Dick, disappointed. “When you changed 
your mind and came back to our cause, Ina, I thought it would 
help the general.” 

It did not better his prospects so far as his love-making is con- 
cerned,” was the reply 

“ I’m sorry, Ina. Somehow or other I’d like to see you the gen- 
eral’s wife. ” 

“ Which I can never be.” 

A frown darkened Whitney’s face. 

“Mebbe,”he said, insinuatingly, “ mebbe, in spite of your re- 
turn to the stars and bars, you’ve left your heart under the other 
banner.” 

A blush heightened the fair girl’s color, and for a moment her 
glance fell before the sand-hiller’s scrutinizing eyes. 

Before she could reply, and as if to aid her in her dilemma, the 
door opened, and Dick was called outside by a voice which Ina 
recognized. 

“ He’ll know all about my adventure in the swamp,” she said to 
herself. “That man is- Mose Mosong, who didn’t whip the 
negro.” 

She spoke the concluding portion of the last sentence in tones of 
triumph, and her eyes told that if necessary her fearless act could 
be repeated. 

The man who had called Dick out was, indeed, Mose Mo- 
song. 

“ The Yanks are back, Dick,” were his first words. 

“ I know that.” 

“ But that isn’t all.” 

“What more?” 

“The spy— the Yankee spy— and a pardner hev landed on the 
Neck.” 

Dick recoiled a step, and his hands clinched suddenly. 

“ The— deuce they have !” 

“ That’s what I said, wasn’t it ?” said Mose with a grin. 

“Where is he?” 

“ Not more than a thousand miles from hyer.” 

“Are the two men alone ?” 

“Yes. Mebbe, the Yank will come hyar. Is the girl at the 
house ?” 

“She is there,” 


PORT PISHER. 


60 


Mose ground his teeth. 

I don’t go much on her conversion back ter secession, when she 
saves a nigger from the whip.” 

“When did she do that?” 

“ An hour ago. We had Gump in our clutches an’ I war about 
ter lay fifty ov ’em on in the most approved style, when in jumped 
the girl an’ I backed out.” 

“ Why didn’t you proceed with the business in hand?” 

“ Ef you’d been thar you wouldn’t ask that question now. Why 
didn’t I go on ? It war because behind the revolver she poked into 
my face war a pair ov eyes thet said ‘ shoot ’ all the time. I’m no 
fool ef I am a Tar-heeler, Dick. I like life like anybody else.” 

“ Did Ina do all that ?” asked Dick, like a person who does not 
want to believe what he has just heard. 

“Ask the old crowd. We war all thar. Thet girl an’ her re- 
volver cowed us all.” 

“ And the nigger ?” 

“ She made me cut him lose, an’ he lit out.” 

For a moment Dick Whitney was silent, and it was plain to be 
seen that the revelation had raised a tempest of rage in his 
breast. 

“ She isn’t tamed yet,” he said, under his breath, as he started 
back toward the house. 

“ Whar ye goin’ ?” asked Mose, clutching his arm. 

“ Back to see the girl. I want a settlement out of her.” 

“ Not now. See the Yankee spy first.” 

“ Yes, I will,” said Dick, halting. “Harry Hilton, I will settle 
with you first. Hang me, if General Whiting will ever try you if 1 
get the first chance. You’ve come back to the Neck to die. This 
time there shall be no escape. Where is he, Mose? Show me the 
Yankee spy, and I’ll forget that you shot to wound and not to 
kill in the hollow.” 

“ So I did, but the next time ” 

“ There may be no next time,” interrupted Dick. “ The Yankee 
shells may end his career to-morrow.” 

“Then you’ll not growl,” laughed Mose. “ It will give the gen- 
eral free swing.” 

“ So it will, but show me the Yankee spy.” 

“Follow me.” 

With a glance over his shoulder at the house, Dick Whitney 
started off after Mose Mosong, whose step was eager and elastic. 

“ Who’s watching ’em ?” he suddenly asked. 

“The boys,” was the reply. “ After landin’ they broke for the 
swamp. He’s been thar afore, you know, Dick ?” 

“ Yes ; who is with him ?” 

“Another Yank, of course. We’ll get ’em both. The boys hev 
rope enough for two necks. 

“They may fight, 


70 


FORT FISHER. 


“Let’em. The hoys are armed. This time the gal won’t be 
nigh ter cow us down. Dick, I hate that girl, an’ I wished a while 
ago that we had let her perish when the sea had her in its gripe. 
Dick, do you think she believes you her nat’ral cousin?” 

“Hush ! You and I are the only keepers of that secret, and I 
don’t want anybody else to handle it,” was the quick response. 
“ We are cousins to all intents and purposes, and that’s enough.” 

Dick growled his words out as he walked along, and Mose did 
hot reply. 

A little while afterward they were halted by a man who rose 
suddenly in their path. 

“ Where are they. Jack ?” inquired Mose, as he and Dick joined 
the solitary picket. 

“ A little ways behind me. It’s the Yankee spy an’ no mistake. 
The other chap I’ve recognized by his voice. I used to know him 
in Buncombe county. 

“ Come on, then,” cried Dick. “ I want that spy’s life.” 

It was at the edge of the swamp that Whitney and his compan- 
ion had run upon the outpost, and a moment after his last words 
the three were creeping noiselessly forward. 

They soon reached five or six dark figures crouched in a group at 
the foot of a tree, and all put their heads together. 

“ We’ve got him completely surrounded, Dick,” said a voice. “It 
took good creepin', but ther thing war done. They’re goin’ ter 
stay hyar awhile longer, an’ then move toward the fort. We’ve 
heard all their plans.” 

Dick Whitney could hardly repress his exultation. 

Harry Hilton in his clutches at last ? 

The situation was almost too good to be genuine. 

“ When the general gets him ” 

“ The general sha’n’t have him,” interrupted Dick, cutting off 
the sand-hiller without ceremony. “ I’m going to hang him my- 
self. By my soul, I’m going to clear the way for General Noble.” 

The last sentence he spoke under his breath. 

After a whispered conversation it was decided to creep upon the 
Union spy and his companion, whose whereabouts were known to 
the rebels. 

With ready revolvers in their bronze hands, and led by the men 
who had marked Hilton’s retreat, the line advanced without more 
noise than that made by the crawling serpent as he makes his way 
through the swamp at night. 

Suddenly the crawlers halted, and Dick Whitney heard a low 
voice that had a familiar sound. 

“ He is there!” he exclaimed in whispers. “ I’m burning to slip 
the noose over his head. Give the other boys the signal. Jack.” 

Forthwith a signal, the cry of a night bird, rose from the lips ol 
the leader of the party. 


i'ORT FISHER. 71 

it was a signal to the rest of the party, who were behind the loyal 

Spy. 

A moment passed away, and then the call was answered. 

“ That’s a signal,” said a voice, not Harry Hilton’s. 

“ Of course it is !” exclaimed Dick Whitney, as he sprung to his 
feet. “ Surrender, Yankee spies. We’ve got you both completely 
surrounded.” 

Like lions attacked in their lair two dark figures were seen to 
spring up in the starlight that fell upon the spot. 

The clicking of revolver locks was heard. 

‘‘Thar’s no use in fightin’ unless you want to die,” continued 
Dick, *• You’re cornered, an’ no mistake. Thar ar’ Confederate 
boys behind you, an’ we are here.” 

In a flash, as it were, the circle which hemmed the Unionists in 
contracted, and the revolvers that covered them were enough to 
make the bravest shrink. 

‘‘Drop your revolvers. We’ll give you a minute’s time,” said 
Dick, as he struck a match on the bark of a tree near by. ‘‘ Look 
into our faces by the light of this match, and say that we don’t 
mean business.” 

One look was enough. 

The little match flashing up revealed the thrilling tableau that 
was presented among the specter trees. 

Harry Hilton and his companion had been completely outwitted 
by the rebels of the Neck, and their lives hung on the triggers of 
the revolvers that grinned in their faces. 

“ Your pard is a man I ought to know,” said Dick, addressing 
Hilton as he went forward with a bunch of blazing matches over 
his head. “Why, of course I know him. You’re a fool to come 
back here. Bob Nichols.” 

The utterance of the conscript’s name was followed by a roar of 
rage. 

“ The man what killed my dogs ! Bob Nichols, I am here for a 
devil’s vengeance I” 

The man who leaped forward as the last sentence was spoken 
landed in front of the conscript. 

It was Mose Mosong. 

Quick as lightning his left hand leaped at Bob’s throat. 

At the same time his right, armed with a pistol, shot upward. 

“ Die as my dogs died I” he thundered. “ They were better than 
a mountain conscript. I send you after them. Bob Nichols I” 

The revolver of the mad wretch fell against the mountaineer’s 
head. 

Then came a dull and horrible report. 

Without a groan the conscript reeled away. 

“ I’ve settled with him for my hounds I” cried Mose, as his victim 
struck. 

At that moment another shot rang through the swamp, and 


72 i^ORT FISHER. 

Mosong, pitching forward, struck the oozy ground with a chilling 
thud. 

“ Dat’s fo’ de twenty-five lashes I was to hev had dis yer night,” 
said the unmistakable tones of a negro, while Mosong quivered on 
the ground in the agonies of death. “ A bullet fo’ de lash. Dat’s 
old Gump’s motto, Mose Mosong.” 

The voice ceased as the echoes of that death-shot died aw^ay. 

“ I’ll skin you alive for your work!” shouted Dick, making the 
vicinity ring with his tones. 

“You will, Massa Whitney?” came back in derisive tones from 
the darkness. “ Gump hab a debt to settle wid you. Dar am cuts 
on his black skin. You know who put dem dar.” 

Dick Whitney laughed defiantly as he wheeled upon the solitary 
prisoner. 

“ I’m not afraid of a nigger I once whipped,” he said. “Mr. Hil- 
ton, the boys will conduct you to my shanty.” 

Harry Hilton started. 

To Dick Whitney’s home ? 

He wondered if Ina was there. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

MUST HE DIE? 

Proud of his capture, Dick Whitney conducted Harry Hilton 
from the swamp and began the march across the sand between it 
and his house. 

His hour of triumph had come, and he evidently intended to 
Improve it. 

As for the captive, with proud, elastic step he walked erect, with 
the bearing of a soldier going to promotion and not to the gallows. 

Hilton was guarded vigilantly by the rebels in whose midst he 
had been placed, and Whitney, who marched at the head of the 
squad, watched him as zealously as did any of his myrmidons. 

Bob Nichols and his murderer had been left where fate had ter- 
minated their lives. 

Both lay within a few feet of each other, the conscript shot 
through the head, and his foe with a bullet in his heart. 

Swift had been the terrible retribution, and the conscript had 
been avenged by black Gump’s hands. 

Never more would Bob Nichols see the mountain home, and the 
loyal old mother would watch in vain till her eyes should grow 
dim for the impressed boy. 

His last service had been for the Union, for having left the cause 
he never loved, he had enrolled himself in Hilton’s company, and 
was a soldier of the government. 

But let us return to our hero, whom we left on his way to Dick 
Whitney’s sand-hill home under guard. 


FORT FISHER. 


73 


The house soon came in sight, boldly outlined against the stars, 
and Dick quickened his gait, and climbed the little knoll in ad- 
vance of his men. 

Perhaps he wanted to prepare Ina for Hilton’s coming. 

“ Ina?” he said as he crossed the threshold, and at sound of her 
name the young girl came forward. 

“ We’re fetching a prisoner up here,” he continued. “I don’t 
want any recognition of him at your hands. I won’t have it. 
You’ll know him as soon as you set eyes on him. If you give him 
any encouragement by word or look, as my name’s Dick Whitney, 
I’ll blow his brains out under this roof.” 

Dick spoke rapidly and with an emphasis that carried conviction 
with his manner. 

Ina glanced instinctively through the door, which had been left 
open, as if she longed to see the prisoner about whom Dick was so 
particular. 

‘‘ Never mind— no recognition,” the rebel of the Neck exclaim- 
ed, with a backward glance, as he went out at the door, and Ina 
was left alone. ^ 

Three minutes later she saw Dick’s figure at the door again, and 
then a handsome young man was ordered to step inside. 

Harry Hilton I 

The name rushed through Ina’s mind, but was not permitted to 
fall from her lips. 

The fortunes of war had brought her loyal lover back to her, 
but not to woo her unmolested. 

Hilton stood in the shadow of the noose, and surrounded as she 
was by Dick and his men, Ina seemed powerless to save. 

Obedient to Whitney’s orders, no glance of recognition passed 
from her to the prisoner who had eyed her from his entrance. 

One would have thought that they had never met before. 

Whitney told his ment to guard Hilton well, a useless order, for 
the rebels had resolved that the prisoner should not escape. 

Prior to the departure from the swamp, the prisoner’s hands had 
been bound together on his back, so that he was helpless in the 
midst of the Carolina tigers. 

It had been determined that Hilton should be executed, but not 
before morning. 

‘‘The first Yankee cannon-shot shall be the death signal,” said 
Dick Whitney. ” I’m going to hang the Yankee spy to the sound 
of his own guns. Three weeks ago I would have delivered him 
over to General Whiting if I had captured him, but now Whiting 
shall never see him.” 

A part of the rebel guard was now told off into watches, and a 
cot was made for the prisoner in one corner of the room. 

It was made by Ina’s hands, but while they fashioned it, not 
once did she glance at the doomed Unionist. 

“ She does not notice me, but she is not faithless,” said Hilton to 


FORT FISHER. 


n 

himself. “ Three weeks separation has not driven Ina into the 
arms of the Confederacy. I must not forget that a smile of recog- 
nition might cost her her life. I will not seek to obtain one of her. 
I will fight fate and rebellion to the bitter end.” 

It was a strange, wild tableau that presented itself in the main 
apartment of Dick Whitney’s house an hour after the making of 
the cot. 

Upon the coverlets was stretched the figure of a man who ap- 
peared to be asleep, but under his half closed eyelids his eyes 
fairly glistened, showing that he was on the alert. 

On a rude wooden stool at the door sat Dick Whitney, a musket 
at his elbow, and a cocked revolver at his right hand. 

At other places in.the same room sat three men, not unlike Dick 
in dress and appearance. 

The eyes of all were fixed on the occupant of the cot. 

In the little room near by, the sleeping place of the angel of the 
peninsula home, was one whose every thought was with the 
doomed spy. 

Ina Whitney had not given up any thought of rescue. 

Though alone, she had resolved that Harry Hilton, who had 
given his all to the old flag, should not meet the fate Dick Whitney 
had marked out for him. 

The only light that entered her room was that which came down 
from above, and entered at its solitary window. 

Several hours passed away, and at last Ina left the window where 
she had stood ever since her entrance into the room after making 
Hilton’s bed. 

Gliding to a stand that occupied one corner of the apartment, 
she opened a drawer and took from it a small but deadly looking 
revolver, which she quickly concealed on her person. 

Then back to her window at her old place. 

The night was so still that a timid person might have heard the 
beating of his own heart. 

Though in the midst of winter, not a breath of cold air came 
across the leaden sand that stretched away toward the swamp. 

Almost directly under Ina’s window crouched one of Dick’s 
guards. 

Ina could see the top of his head from her station. 

If the guard were wakeful, he did not move; if his ears were 
open, he did not hear Ina open the window, nor see her lean out. 

“There’s only one man in the band I’d dare to approach, and this 
one is not he,” she said, after a brief inspection of the guard’s face. 
“I thought Burt Crosby’s station was under the window, but it is 
not.” 

The young girl drew back into the house not a little disappointed. 

Fortune did not seem disposed to favor her. 

If she could have gazed across the starlit sand at that moment 


i'OftT li'tSfifiR. to 

she might have caught sight of an object that would have attracted 
her attention. 

It looked like a man as it glided from toward the somber swamp, 
yet it had the motions of the trailing panther, or a creeping wolf. 

Nearer and nearer it came to the house on the side which boasted 
of the little window where Ina stood. 

The guard did not see it, nor did his ear, which of all senses at 
that hour should have' been on the alert, hear one of the crawler’s 
movements. 

When nigh the house on the sand knoll the object raised it’s head 
and displayed the black face of a negro, burly, broad shouldered 
and somewhat tigerish in expression. 

Could it be Gump, coming back to help the doomed man who 
could not be dreaming of rescue at that hour? 

All at once the negro seemed to espy the guard ; then he halted 
and studied him for awhile. 

At length as if satisfied that the rebel was drowsy, if not actually 
asleep, he came on again, hugging the sand closer than ever, and 
with a pair of keen eyes rivetecT on the man under the sill. 

Then it was that Ina saw the negro. 

“Heaven is sending him to help me,’’ she ejaculated in an under- 
tone. “ Gump and I will strike a blow for the Union before day- 
light. If he had not come I would have struck alone.” 

Yes, alone, to have failed. 

How eagerly Ina watched the dark figure in the sand. 

Her hopes and Hilton’s life seemed to lie in the success of the 
negro’s crawl. 

Ina held her breath when Gump advanced again, slowly but 
surely toward the guard. 

Suddenly he stopped. 

Not more than four feet now separated the two men. 

All at once the negro’s hand darted like a rattlesnake at the 
sentry’s throat. 

It was empty when it shot forward, but when it stopped it 
clutched a human trachea. 

Of course, the clutch roused the guard, but he was powerless in 
the grasp of the black Hercules. 

Ina looked from the window, and saw the half choked man 
quivering in Gump’s grip. 

Tighter and tighter grew that somber hand until the work was 
done, and the rebel guard fell from Gump’s fingers, choked to 
death I 

The next moment the negro stood erect. 

His hand rested on the window sill, and Ina met his triumphant 
eyes. 

“ Thank God ! You have come to help me t” 

How the orbs of the negro danced as she spoke. 

“ One of ’em is out of de way, miss,” he said. “ Old Gump wants 


POUT PISSES. 


IQ 

ter pay youse back fo’ savin’ his life in de swatnp to-night. Mose 
Mosong he’s already finished. Whar am Massa Linkum’s spy ? 
Dar ’s hot Union blood in Gump’s heart to-night, Missa Ina. De 
spy must not hang at de end o’ Dick Whitney’s rope. 

How these words thrilled Ina’s soul as they fell upon her ears. 
She spoke not, but drew back. 

That was answer enough. 

The next moment the negro came in at the window, and stood 
beside her on the fioor. 

He resembled a Nubian tiger with his hashing eyes, and hands 
like tawny claws. 

All at once he stepped toward the door. 

Nothing could withstand such a Sampson. 

j 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE GALLANT RESCUE. 

We have already said that although he lay on the cot in as rest- 
ful a position as his bound hands w^ould permit, Harry Hilton was 
not asleep. 

Did he expect a rescue with the sleepless rebels around him ? 

The last look received from Ina had not raised his hopes. 

If the girl had not deserted him she was certainly in Dick Whit- 
ney’s power. 

He counted the minutes that resolved themselves into hours and 
secretly watched his guards, who believed that he had buried all 
his troubles in slumber. 

Triumph would not let Dick Whitney close his eyes. 

He was content to sit at the door and gaze at the man who had 
at last fallen into his power. 

Thei e was not a drop of blood in Dick’s veins that was not in- 
tensely Southern. 

He hated everything Northern or loyal, and a bluecoat was an 
abomination in his eyes. 

He had planned Hilton’s execution to the minutest particular. 

He would rouse his men before daylight. 

In the light of their torches they could prepare the gallows for 
the loyal victim, and at the sound of Porter’s first gun they would 
launch him into eternity. 

Then he would be out of Ina’s way, and the general' would have 
an open field for his conquest. 

Captain Davis was not feared by Dick. 

Although the rebel officer had nearly recovered from the wound 
received at Mose Mosong’s hands the night of the interrupted duel 
in the hollow, and a few days more promised to restore him to 
health, Dick felt able to take care of him. 

“ Captain Davis knows one thing,” muttered Dick, on guard at 
the door, “and that is that I will not have him foolin’ around 


rORT FISHER. 77 

here. It will not be a duel next time, but the man who gets the 
dead drop will shoot first, that’s all. We can’t be friends. Captain 
Davis. I would advise you to leave the Neck or die to-morrow on 
the ramparts of the forts.” 

At that very moment there stood within a few feet of Dick the 
negro giant, whose eyes possessed the flash of a tiger’s. 

We left him at the door that opened into the room where Harry 
Hilton lay. 

“ You stay back hyar, miss,” he said to Ina in low tones. ‘‘Dis 
yer chile kin take keer ob de hull lot out dar. Jes’ let him hev 
full swing, an’ stan’ by an’ see de result.” 

His black hand pushed Ina gently aside as he spoke. 

“Whatever you do, don’t kill Dick,” she said. 

“ De ole rebel !” 

“ Yes, he’s a rebel, but he must divulge a great secret before he 
dies.” 

“Hoi datit, eh? ’’ 

“Yes.” 

“ Den fo’ you sake, Missa Ina, ole Gump will spar’ him fo’ a 
time. Golly ! de welts on my back burn wheneber I think ob 
Dick Whitney who put ’em dar. Stan’ back now, chile. I’se 
gwine inter de lion’s den.” 

Although the door did not stand ajar it opened without noise, 
and the negro stepped across the threshold. 

A light, which enabled him to take in the whole situation at a 
glance, was burning in the room, and in the twinkling of an eye 
he had singled out Dick. 

In a single instant the rebel or the Neck recognized the rescuer. 

With a bound he gained his feet. 

“ The enemy !” pealed from his throat. 

“Yes, de enemy, Massa Dick!” was the quick response, and the 
black leaped at Whitney with the impetuosity of a lion. 

Up went the rebel’s revolver, but quicker than it was the tre- 
mendous blow dealt by the sabel rescuer, and Whitney staggered 
back as if struck by a sledge-hammer. 

The next instant the room was a scene of confusion. 

The other guards sprung at Gump, who met them with his stal- 
wart arms, which seemed more than a match for all. 

Almost at the same time the front door was burst open by the 
men on the outside, and as the darky sent the last of his first as- 
sailants reeling away he turned to face the new enemy. 

At the first blow Harry Hilton rose to a sitting position, and 
held his breath. 

A glance had caused him to recognize his dusky helper, and the 
swift blows dealt by Gump astonished him. 

All at once the negro sent one of the rebels headlong against the 
table, overturning it and upsetting the lamp, which went out as it 
struck the floor. _ 


78 


FORT FISHER. 


Then it was that a figure glided across the floor to the corner 
occupied by the prisoner’s cot. 

The rebels who had not yet beeu placed hors dc combat did not 
see it. 

An instant later Harry Hilton felt his bends cut by sC keen-edged 
knife, and with a mad cry he sprung to Gump’s assistance. 

For several minutes longer the fight went on, but the quick and 
stunning blows of the black could not be returned. 

He did not deal one stroke amiss, and the two men who ran 
from the house were glad to escape with their lives. 

“ Hat’s what I call pretty good work,” said Gump, with a broad 
grin, as he presented himself panting to Ina after the battle. 
“Say de word, missa, an’ not one o’ dese chaps shall eber try ter 
whip another nigger, nor cotch a Yankee spy. Dar lies Dick 
Whitney. Shall I finish him ? Say de word, missa, an’ he’ll neb- 
ber wake dis side Canaan.” 

“ No,” and Ina’s hand was laid restrainingly on Gump’s arm. “ As 
1 said awhile ago, I do not want him dead. He must give up his 
secret by and by.” 

“ We’ll take ’im along with us den,” said Gump. “ We’ll make 
him tell it when he opens his eyes.” 

Before he could be held back the negro started toward Dick 
Whitney, whom he lifted from the floor and carried triumphantly 
to where Harry and Ina stood. 

“Golly! how him eyes flash when he see’d me enter deroom,” 
continued Gump, displaying his burden to the pair. “ Gump 
could hab fired a magazine wid de sparks, but up went de black 
fist an* down went Massa Dick.” 

The body of the unconscious man seemed no weight at all in the 
stalwart darkey’s arms, and Gump’s eyes grew fiery again as he 
regarded him. 

“How many got away, Gump?” asked Harry. 

“Two, Massa Hilton.” 

“Two too many, but it cannot be helped. Those two men are 
capable of doing us a great deal of damage.” 

“That is true,” said Ina. “This house is no place for you, 
Harry. I advise a retreat back to the fleet.” 

“ I did not expect to rejoin it until after the fight. To-morrow 
the troops are to be landed, and I intended to take my place among 
them.” 

“ Den de swamp must become your hidin’ place. You habn’t 
fo’got de Crane’s Nest, massa?” 

Hilton assured Gump that the hiding place was not forgotten, 
and Ina suggested a quick retreat to the spot. 

No time was to be lost. 

The two men who had effected their escape were liable to return 
to the house with assistance from the nearest rebel battery, which 
was scarcely two miles away. — 


FORT FISHER. 


79 


Then escape would become an impossibility. 

“Dese arms must be ’tended to first,” said Gump, beginning to 
collect the arms of the rebel guard, and as fast as a weapon was 
picked up it was renaered useless by being struck over the hard 
plank threshold of the front door. 

Suddenly the occupants of the house were startled by the report 
of a musket, and the bullet that whistled across the room made 
the negro spring back with an exclamation of horror. 

“Golly! dat’s too close to be safe,” he cried. “ Git from befo’ 
de door, quick ! Bar’s mo’ dan one man out dar.” 

At the same time the sable Samson shut the door and drew a re- 
volver. 

“Into Missie Ina’s room an’ through de window,” he continued. 
“ De house ain’t surrounded yet. an’ de swamp am close by.” 

“ And you ?” ejaculated Hilton. 

“ I’ll foller by-’m-by. Somebody’s got ter stay behind an’ kiver 
de retreat. A darky’s good fo’ dat, 1 ’spect.’' 

Gump had hardly ceased ere a loud noise on the outside smote 
the ears of all. 

“You people in the house must surrender,” it said. “ Weare here 
in force, and intend to take you an.” 

“ Rebel soldiers I” said the darky, looking into the lovers’ faces. 
“ Mebbe we’s put off de retreat too long.” 

Hilton, who had drawn his revolver and stood erect, looking like 
a young lion brought to bay, sent a glance of defiance toward the 
door. 

“ None ob dat,” said Gump, stepping in front of him. “Bar’s 
fight 4n yer eye, Massa Hilton, but fight it must not be now. To de 
swamp ! It am de only chance. De window ob de young missie’s 
room am open. It am de way. Go! Ole Gump will kiver de re- 
treat.’* 

“Yes, come,” said Ina, catching Hilton’s hand. “To stay here 
and resist the men outside will be to die. In the swamp ” 

“Are you going to surrender?” came the interruption from 
without. 

The man who had spoken seemed on the very step of the front 
door. 

Forced to fly when he would rather have remained and fought, 
the loyal spy sprung into Ina’s boudoir and lei himself out of the 
window. 

Then he assisted the young girl from the house. 

“Now for the Crane’s Nest,” said Ina. “Gump is quite able to 
take care of himself.” 

An instant later the lovers turned their backs on the house and 
fled down the little knoll, leaving the faithful darky at the post of 
danger he had chosen. 

One hundred yards away they halted in the sand, and Ina pressed 
Hilton’s hand as she whispered : 


80 


FORT FISHER. 


“ Hark ! they are forcing the door.” 

The pair listened to the blows that came from the direction of 
the house just deserted, and suddenly a crash, louder than the oth- 
ers, told them that the door had been forced, 

A cry of victory rose on the air. 

“ Can Gump resist them all ?” asked Hilton, breathlessly. 

“ Ole Gump am cute if he am a nigger,” was the unexpected re- 
sponse, and a figure halted before the pair. 

It was Gump himself, and from his broad shoulders hung an un- 
conscious prisoner. 

Dick Whitney ! 


CHAPTER XXI. 

THE FATAL VISIT. 

Who do you think has just arrived by way of Wilmington?” 
asked General Whiting, who commanded Fort Fisher, as he enter- 
ed the little room in the bomb-proofs occupied by a man who has 
already been introduced to the reader, Captain Duke Davis of the 
Confederate army, 

Davis gave the general a look of mute surprise and inquisitive- 
ness, as he answered • 

‘‘I’m a poor guesser, general. The devil may have come from 
Wilmington for ought I know.” 

“Not quite his Satanic Majesty, but a person whom you will not 
welcome, just the same,” laughed Whiting. “ To impart the in- 
forqiation with which I am burdened, I will name the unexpected 
visitor. It is General Noble.” 

Duke Davis’ pale face colored at once and his eyes kindled. 

“Has he reinforced us?” he exclaimed. “I thought General 
Noble was with Lee.” 

“ So he was, but he isn’t there now, but right here in Fort 
Fisher.” 

“ Has he a leave of absence ?” 

“ I do not know, I have not seen him yet. General Lamb in- 
formed me a moment since that he is here and inquires for me. I 
shall know more after an interview.” 

Captain Davis did not speak for a moment. 

General Whiting knew that the two men were rivals for Ina 
Whitney’s love. 

Since the duel in the hollow back of the Mound Battery, Cap- 
tain Davis had unburdened himself so that Whiting knew every- 
thing concerning the love which had not flowed along with an un- 
rippled current. 

The same thoughts seemed to fill the minds of both the men, 
while Davis held his peace. 

General Noble had left the Army of Northern Virginia, at the 
very time when it needed help most, to prosecute a love affair 
more than a hundred miles way. 


FORT FISHER. 


81 


Perhaps he had deserted the Confederacy, whose main army was 
almost at the mercy of Grant, and whose second prop was fast 
giving way before the advance of Sherman’s legions. 

** General, you know what brings that soldier here at this time,” 
suddenly said Captain Davis, breaking the silence which was be- 
ginning to become painful. “ You, too, know why he is in Fort 
Fisher to-night. He isn’t here to help us against the Yankees to- 
morrow If Ina vs ere not on the Neck, he would not be here.’' 

“ True, captain,” said Whiting, as he arose to depart. “ I will 
see the visitor and report. Keep cool if you expect to fight to- 
morrow,” 

“To-morrow?” echoed Davis, as his eyes fiashed again “The 
news you have brought me makes me ready to fight to-night. I 
am ready to meet Ashby Noble at any time, and at any place he 
may choose. The next time I will see to it that no man is hidden 
behind the sand-hill with a rifie ” 

A smile flitted across General Whiting’s face at the eagerness 
with which the captain spoke, and a few minutes’ later Davis was 
alone 

“General Noble here~on the Neck,” he grated, as ’his hands 
clinched “ Ina’r face fetched him down here at this time. He’s 
here without leave, too I know it. General Lee is not gc/ng to let 
a major genera slip away on leave, of absence at this juncture of 
affairs He needs very man in his army and the experienced 
officers especially General Noble, you're a deserter Address 
me, and by heavens. Ill make you show your leave. Dick Whit- 
ney’s tool didn’t kill me when he shot I’m alive and strong 
enough to grapple with any man who would step between me and 
Ina’s hand. I’m glad you’ve come I can meet you face to face, 
and we will know one another thoroughly when we’ve played the 
game to the end ” 

Captain Davis was the very picture of rage as he walked back 
and forth in the cramped apartment, with swollen veins and 
clinched hands 

Mose Mosong’s bullet had nearly accomplished the mission upon 
which he had sent it. 

The captain’s life had been saved by the skill of the fort surgeon, 
which was assisted by his own determination to recover. 

He did not know who had fired the shot so nearly fatal; but he 
was satisfied that it came from one of Dick Whitney’s friends or 
tools. 

More than once he had resolved to hunt the villain down, but 
cooler thought whispered that the greatest victory over Dick 
would be the winning of Ina, the beautiful girl he had promised to 
General Noble. 

Whiting had encouraged him to this decision, for the command- 
er feared that in a second encounter Dick Whitney would come off 
victorious. 


FORT FISHER. 


i>2 

General Noble’s visit to Fort Fisher, -when Captain Davis believed 
him hundreds of miles away with Lee’s army, was certainly of the 
most startling nature. 

The rivals could not meet as friends, and Captain Davis’ passion 
was likely to produce an altercation at first sight. 

For several minutes after the outburst of rage which we have 
just heard from the captain’s lips, he continued to pace the floor, 
his ire, although silent, by no means abated. 

“ Confound this meddler ! I want to see him as soon as pos- 
sibleP’ ho exclaimed all at once, starting toward the door. “He 
shan’t leave the fort without meeting me. Love has made us ene- 
mies, although we serve the same flag. Where is Ashby Noble?’’ 

As if in reply to his eager interrogativoj voices on the outside of 
the little quarters made Davis stop and hold his breath 

Had he recognized among the sounds a voice not unknown but 
familiar ? 

The following moment a soldier’s rap was heard, and as Captain 
Davis, with fiery eyes, opened the door, he was greeted by voice 
and figure ot an old comrade 

“ Hello, captain i General Noble here is on the hunt of General 
Whiting. We’ve heard that he was here ’’ 

‘ He was a minute ago, ” and Captain Davis’ glance went beyond 
the speaker, a rebel major, and fell upon the person who stood 
several feet behind him, a tall, dark-featured, soldierly-looking 
man, with an ample chest, and long, black hair 

Davis seemed about to leap upon his rival as his eyes transfixed 
him, and he spoke in a voice that betrayed his hatred when he 
said 

“What is the news from the Virginia front, general? I suppose 
your leave of absence is of a late date, so you can speak know- 
ingly” 

The first reply was the quick stride that carried General Noble 
to the very threshold of Davis’ quarters. 

“lam fresh from the front, captain,’’ he said, as with his keen 
eyes he measured his rival from head to foot. “ Major, if my friend, 
Davis, has no objection, I will rest here until General Whiting has 
been discovered ’ 

While the captain’s brow darkened, his eyes seemed to dance for 
joy 

“ Come in and entertain me, general,’’ he said “ Major Colville 
will do you the favor of finding General Whiting at the earliest 
practicable moment.” 

“ That I will, gentlemen,” said the major ; and as he withdrew 
with a courteous salute. Captain Davis found himself alone with 
his distinguished rival. 

For a moment the two men stood not more than four feet apart, 
eying one another like tigers that meet suddenly in the jungle,’ 
each confident of his power to overcome the other. 


Foill? FISHER. 83 

It was their first personal meeting, although their rivalry had to 
some extent made them known to one another. 

“ My news from the front is not of the most encouraging nature,’* 
said the general, finding the silence painful “ We are hard pressed. 
The Army of Northern Virginia needs every man that can be 
spared by the Confederacy. The last fight is on its hands.” 

Captain Davis seemed to leap at his opportunity. 

“Under those circumstances,” he said, with keen-edged bitter- 
ness, “ I would have thought that General Lee’s veterans would 
have remained with him.” 

The shot had not been misdirected. It went home. 

General Noble seemed to increase an inch in stature 

His face clouded instantly, and under his long black lashes his 
eyes flashed forked lightnings. 

“ You insinuate, sir,” he said, meeting Cap tain'Davis’ look, which 
was an unmistakable challenge, with one that bespoke his own in- 
domitable courage backed by Virginian blood. “ There is an im- 
plication in your remarks. Captain Davis, which no true soldier of 
the Confederacy will brook. I am no deserter. The man who 
questions my leave of absence is a coward and no gentleman !” 

Every word cut like a razor 

What more was needed to bring about a meeting that must re- 
sult in bloodshed ? 

A small table partly intruded itself between the two men, but 
that mutepbstacle was not to interfere. 

“ And 1 say that no man who loves the flag he has mustered 
under will desert his chosen chief in the hour of peril? ’ fell sud- 
denly from the captain’s lips. “ General Noble, we are not friends, 
although the cause of the Confederacy claims the services of our 
swords y ou are the man to whom Dick Whitney has sold the 
fairest woman under the Southern cross.’’ 

“ Sold i That lie falls from your lips with the venom of a rattle- 
snake Ina Whitney has rejected you; hence your cowardly dis- 
play of spleen!” 

A cold, cutting laugh followed the last sentence. 

“Isay soldi” exclaimed Captain Davis, springing around the 
table “ The bargain one man makes another can break General 
Noble, your leave of absence exists only in your Imagination. 
General Lee furloughs no soldiers now By the gods ! General 
Whiting shall return you to Petersburg as a deserter.” 

“Not until 1 have killed you!” 

Quick as a flash two revolvers leaped from their possessor’s sides, 
and as the men stepped back apace two reports, which were blend- 
ed into one, almost filled the little room. 

For a moment the result of the swift encounter was hidden by 
smoke, but when it lifted General Noble lay at the foot of the 
wall, and Captain Davis stood erect, white-faced and tiger-eyed, 
with a revolver clutched in his right hand. 


84 


PORT FISHER. 


“lie said he would kill me and he lied!” fell in whispers from 
the victor’s lips. “ General Noble you had better have remained 
at your post. There was an- honorable grave there. No man 
steps between me and Ina Whitney and lives !” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

BACK FROM THE DEAD. 

The events related in the foregoing chapter took place about the 
time that witnessed the rescue of Hilton by Gumption Cute, the 
loyal negro. 

For several minutes Captain Davis occupied one spot on the floor 
and gazed at his work. 

General Noble had fired at the same instant with his antagonist, 
but not with so certain an aim 

The bullet intended for the captain’s head clipped a lock above 
his ear, and buried itself in the wall beyond 
A little deflection to the right, and Duke Davis would not have 
triumphed over his impetuous rival. 

It was natural that the reports of the two pistols should have 
been heard beyond the conflines of the captain’s quarters 
They were heard. 

Captain Davis was suddenly aroused by the hurried entrance of a 
man whom he recognized as General Whiting. 

“My God! what has happened?” exclaimed the commander of 
Fort Fisher, staring flrst at the rebel officer on the floor and then at 
his slayer. 

“ For us to meet was to tight,” said Davis through clinched teeth, 
“ It had to come, general. I’m glad it’s over.” 

“ Is he dead ?” 

“ By jove I haven’t looked,” and Duke Davis started toward his 
rival. 

He and Whiting stooped over the prostrate officer at the same 
moment. 

A brief examination was enough. 

General Ashby Noble was dead ! 

“ Who witnessed the encounter, captain?” asked Whiting. 

“No one, we were alone, ” 

“That is bad, especially if you shot in self-defense.” 

A grim smile wreathed the rebel captain’s lips. 

“ Well, as to that,” he said, “if I had not killed him he would 
have killed me. He said he intended to finish me just before he 
fired.” 

General Whiting was silent for a moment. 

“ I will have to put you under arrest. Captain,” he said at 
length. 

“Then I cannot fight the Yankees to-morrow?” 

“We’ll arrange that if you desire to serve at your post then,” 
was the reply. 

“ Very well, then. I want to fight to-morrow. After the battle 
I will meet any charges that ma> oe brought against me.” 

General Whiting took his departure and Captain Davis was alone 
with his dead rival, but not for long. 

A guard of men under the command of a lieutenant soon came 
and carried the corpse away, much to the captain’s relief. 

“Tomorrow I will vindicate myself,” he said to himself . “I 
am not going to be condemned by a court martial. Ashby Noble 
is dead and the whole matter shall end here.” 

Captain Davis glanced at his watch and noticed the hour 
It was one o’clock. 

Midnight had just passed. 


J'OftT FISHER ' 85 

With the blood of a human being on his soul the rebel captain 
flung himself down upon a cot and soon fell into a sound sleep 
Nothing seemed to disturb his conscience ; his slumber was as 
peaceful as a child’s 

Without his quarters the general in command, with his head 
officers, was preparing for the coming battle, which all felt would 
decide the fate of the fort, 

It was expected that Porter’s fleet would open at daylight with 
all its guns, and that the soldiers would attempt to land under 
protection of the heavy Are 

The body of General Noble covered with an army blanket, lay 
in an unfrequented corner of the works 
A search of the garments in which it was clad had failed to re- 
veal such a paper as a leave of absence, and General Whiting be- 
lieved that the soldier had deserted the Confederacy for good 
At that time the most observing men of the rebel army had 
given up the cause for which they had battled for four years, and 
not a few had quietly left the ranks and returned home, thus 
escaping what to them was a humiliating surrender, 

Lee’s army, as well as Johnston’s had dwindled away to a small 
force by desertions which could not be checked, and which, if 
they continued, would leave the rebel commander-in-chief with 
no army at all at the beginning of spring 
General Whiting labored all night to strengthen the works on 
the peninsula. 

He was devoted to the cause in which he had drawn his sword, 
and his greatest ambition was to prevent his little army from fall- 
ing into the hands of the enemy. 

Daylight, dull, leaden and ominous, came at last. 

General Whiting trained his glass on the sea as he stood on the 
top of the highest traverse which served as a lookout 
He saw what he expected to see, the Union armada, which was 
soon to precipitate its war like powers upon him 
“ If I could beat them off again I would be satisfied,” fell from 
his lips as he looked. “ This time I am sure the Yankees are not 
led by Butler. Grant has relieved that general of his command. 
I will soon know who faces me now. Well, of one thing I am cer- 
tain, this fort will be held as long as it remains tenable.” 

Yes, the bluecoats had come back to the Neck with an augment- 
ed force, and the determination to clear the land and water ways 
to Wilmington. 

General Terry had succeeded Butler, and the troops which had 
comprised the first expeditionary force against Fort Fisher had 
been reinforced by a division of colored troops, and the batteries 
of Lee and Myrick. 

The entire force numbered over eight thousand men 
Under the leadership of Terry, there was to be no failure 
He was not to waste precious time by experiments with powder 
boats and the like. 

In short, he had been ordered to take Fort Fisher, and he had 
resolved to obey Grant’s orders to the letter. 

It was four o’clock in the early morning when the first move- 
ments took place. 

The inshore line of warships stood in toward the beach, for the 
purpose of covering the landing of the troops, and the transports 
took up their position about two hundred yards outside of them. 

Then the ironclad fleet moved majestically down upon the fort 
until they got within easy range, when the first guns opened on the 
works. 

What a thrill those heavy cannon sent through the breasts of the 
rebels who lined the tops of the parapets with their eyes turned 
seaward, and ears strained for the opening shots 1 


FORT FlSHEli. 


m 

For toui' hours the rain of shot and shell was incessant 

The ironclads and the heavier war frigates united with their for- 
midable batteries, and so accurate was their aim that the garrison 
soon deserted the ramparts and once more sought safety in the 
bomb-proofs 

At eight o’clock the disembarkation of the troops commenced at 
a point about five miles above Fort Fisher, and not far from the 
swamp in which some of the most thrilling events of our romance 
have taken place. 

The troops were eager to land, and many plunged waist deep 
into thi "urf and waded ashore despite the rough sea which pre- 
vailed at the time. 

The enthusiasm displayed by the Unioon troops was such that 
by three in the afternoon the whole command, with three days' 
rations, three hundred thousand charges of ammunmtion, and a 
full supply of intrenching tools, found itself firmly fixed on land. 

Pickets had been thrown out with the first troops landed, and 
the opening musket shots were exchanged between them and the 
Confederate outposts. 

A brilliant little dash by the advanced line succeeded in captur- 
ing Half-Moon Battery, which yielded up a few prisoners. 

Beyond this, there was no active work, and the command pushed 
along the sandy beach toward the fort itself. 

General Terry now began to carry out the plans which he had 
arranged for the capture of the fort. 

He established a defensive line across the peninsula, or from the 
ocean to Cape Fear River 

This line was intended to protect the troops who were to assault 
the works from attack in the rear. 

During much of this time the gunboats had unremittingly paid 
their respects to the fort, and as darkness settled over the scene, 
their fire slacked, although it was not stopped. 

Under cover of darkness the troops effected several important 
moves, and at ten o’clock their bivouac fires blazed two miles 
from the doomed fort. 

Doomed, we say, for Yankee valor had determined to lower its 
fiag 

The loyal troops were, for the most part, covered by a lagoon, 
which extended between their right fiank and a wood beyond. 

A cool wind blew in their faces and flared their bivouac fires, 
but their cheerfulness did not desert them for a moment, and the 
camp was the scene of jollity and anticipation. 

Within the rebel fort not so much confidence reigned. 

General Whiting had heard the name of the commander who op- 
posed him. 

On several occasions during the war he had faced General Terry 
on the field of battle, and knew him for one of the most compe- 
tent generals in the Union service. 

“There will be bloody work to-morrow,’’ he said to Captain 
Davis, to whose quarters he had come for a brief rest after the 
tasks of the day just gone. “ There always is hard fighting where 
Terry commands.” 

“ Don’t anticipate defeat, general,” smiled Captain Davis. “ Our 
men are ready for the enemy.” 

“That is true, and I am as ready to direct them; but we must 
not underrate the enemy’s strength because of this. For my part, 
I am eager to meet General Terry.” 

“Oh, yes, you are ready!” sneered Duke Davis, as General 
Whiting left the room. “ Hang me, if you don’t give up the game 
to-night before you hare seen a bluecoat.” And a derisive laugh 
fell from the speaker’s lips. 


rORT FISHER. ST 

*‘Hark ! what was that ?” exclaimed the rebel captain the next 
moment, “ There’s somebody at my door Come in.” 

He opened the little portal as he concluded, to recoil with a wild 
ory, as a tall, white-faced man in rebel gray stalked solemnly into 
the place. 

‘‘My God! General Noble!” rung in thrilling accents from his 
lips, as he retreated to the wall, where he stopped and trembled 
from head to foot, his face blanched to a deathly pallor, and his 
eyes seemingly about to leap from their sockets. 

He was the picture of speechless terror. 

“ In the name of Heaven, what brings you back from the dead 't 
continued the captain, staring at the apparition which had ad- 
vanced to his little table. ‘‘ I killed you last night. I sent you to 

eternity before your time. General Noble. I For the love of 

God! speak, if you’re not a specter.” 

There was no reply for a moment, when the bloodless lips of the 
ghostly visitor parted to speak in sepulchral tones • 

‘‘ Duke Davis, 1 look to the Yankees for vengeance.” 

With a wild cry that sounded far beyond the bomb-proof quar- 
ters, the Confederate captain sprung past the specter and landed 
in toe night several feet beyond the threshold. 

‘‘What’s the matter, captain?” inquired an officer, who had been 
startled by Davis’ sudden appearance. 

‘‘ The dead has come back. In yonder stands General Noble — at 
my table. You all know that I killed him last night! My God! 
am I to be forever a haunted man ?” 

The listening officer smiled incredulously, and started toward the 
captain’s quarters. 

Suddenly Davis heard an exclamation of surprise from his lips, 

‘‘There’s a dead man here, sure enough,” he said. 

Shivering, and still frightened, Duke Davis stole back to the 
bomb-proof. 

On the floor lay his spectral visitor, but this time the eyes were 
fixed in death. 

If General Noble had returned from his grave to speak his 
slayer’s doom, he would not escape again. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 
dick’s secret told. 

We now go back to the party left in the sand midway between 
Dick Whitney’s home and the swamp. 

The negro’s sudden appearance to Ina and Hilton with the pris- 
oner was a startling event. 

He informed the lovers that he had effected his escape with his 
captive by the window of Ina’s room, while the rebel soldiers, a 
partv of foragers, were forcing the door 

After a brief consultation the little party proceeded to the 
swamp, and deep in its secret reces.^ies found some firm ground 
which offered concealment. 

There Dick Whitney regained consciousness, and was greatly 
surprised to discover that he had again fallen into Hilton’s hands. 

“So your sudden conversion back to secession was all a cheat,” 
he said, madly, as he gazed into Ina’s face, revealed by the little fire 
which Gump had kindled behind a log. “I never did take much 
stock in it at any time, and I’m glad to know where you stand. 
By my life, I’m not sorry that there’s no Whitney blood in your 
veins. There isn’t a drop there. Do you know that, girl ?” 

“Ay, that! do, Dick, said Ina. “You have not kept your 
secret very well.” 


88 


PORT FISHER. 


“ Who told you ?” asked the rebel. “ I thought I shared it with 
but one man, and he is dead.” 

“ With Mose Mosong ? Yes, he got his just deserts at the hands 
of Gump here. Well, since 1 know something about your secret, 
why not tell the whole story ?” 

For a moment Dick was silent. 

He did not like the thought of obliging in any way the girl who 
had completely deceived him, but at length a look told that he had 
decided to speak. 

“ I guess 1 might as well out with it, seeing that you know some- 
thing, Ina,” he said. “ About eighteen years ago on a certain night 
a vessel came up the Cape Fear River in one of the worse storms 
that ever stirred the waters of North Carolina. For awhile the 
ship breasted the tempest, and made headway against the wind, 
but it was doomed. 

” 1 was one of the two men who followed it along on the shore, 
waiting for the end, which I knew would come soon. All at once a 
streak of lightning cut the black heavens and struck that vessel. 
Bless me, if it didn’t fairly lift me off my feet, for the next second 
the whole ship was on fire. It was an awful sight, but what could 
we do ? Now and then we could see ^people moving about inittie 
vessel, and suddenly they began to jump into the water. 

“ We watched ’em for awhile or until the ship burned down to 
the water, which It did in an uncommon short space of time. The 
light went out almost as suddenly as it had been kindled, and the 
darkness got thick again. I was standing at the edge of the water 
trying to see what had become of the people who had jumped 
overboard, but not a soul could I see. 

“While I stood there I heard a sound like a baby’s cry, and the 
next moment I saw something white at my feet. You may believe 
that I picked it up, and sure enough it was a girl baby that actual- 
ly laughed as I took her from the water. She had been tied to a 
board which made a pretty fair boat, and the wind and the waves 
had carried it to my feet. At that time I wasn’t living where I 
live now, but I took the little one home, just the same, and after- 
ward sent her to Wilmington, where I had a friend whom I knew I 
could trust. Because I took a fancy to my find from the first I 
didn’t try to find out who she was, so I called her Ida Whitney, 
and saw her become the fairest girl in the old North State.” 

We need not say that Hilton and Ina hung breathless on Dick’s 
narrative to the end. 

“ That’s how you became my cousin, Ina,” continued the rebel 
of the Neck, with a smile. “The only thing I hate about the 
whole affair is that I’ve raised you to see you turn Yankee. It 
wasn’t my raising that made you do that, but the words of that 
man there.” 

Whitney’s eyes scintillated madly as they became fixed upon 
Hilton. 

“ I can tell you why Ina clings to the old flag,” said the Union 
spy, meeting Dick’s look with a proud, triumphant glitter. 

“Well, Yank, let’s hear it.” 

“ There’s loyal blood in her veins.” 

“ Yankee blood ?” cried Dick. 

“You’d call it so.” 

“ Then you know who she is !” 

“Have I said so ?” 

“ But you do know. Your looks tell me as much, Harry !” ex- 
claimed Ina, clutching Hilton’s sleeve. “ The story of my rescue 
has given you a clew to my identity. Tell me who 1 am.” 

“ I cannot. 1 will not lift your hopes with mere conjecture. I 


foR^ RiSHEii. 89 

believe that I will ere long be able to establish your identity, Ina; 
but niore I cannot say to-night.” 

“ Of course she’s not my cousin,” said Dick Whitney, glancing 
at the beautiful girl whose face was aglow with pride and joy. 
“ Thar’s a good many people in Wilmington who never took much 
stock in that story, and they’ll not be surprised when the story 
has been told aright. We couldn’t be relatives, anyhow, girl. 
You’re for the old flag, and I’d give my blood for the hew 
one.” 

“The past is past, Dick,” said Ina, gently. “ Accept the thanks 
of the little girl you saved that wild night on the Cape Fear 
coast.” 

As she spoke Ina bent over the prisoner who lay bound on the 
ground, and the faces of the twain almost touched. 

“ Ina, hang me, if I ain’t glad I saved you if you are a Yankee,” 
said Dick, his eyes becoming moist under the girl’s look. “I ex- 
pect the general’s lost you forever.” 

“ Let us forget him,” responded the girl. 

“You may, but I can’t. I’ve given my solemn promise that you 
shall become his wife. I’ve never gone back on a promise yet, and 
the general will hold me to that one.” 

Ah ! if Dick Whitney could have entered Fort Fisher at that mo- 
ment he would have know^n that he would never be asked to fulfill 
the promise rashly made. 

“ Let the general and I fight it out,” said Hilton, with a smile. 

“ When will you meet him ejaculated Dick, astonished. “Gen- 
eral Noble is with Lee.” 

“ We will rejoin Grant when we have captured the fort,” was the 
prompt and confident rejoinder. 

“ When you take it ! I suppose so.” 

It was Whitney’s turn to smile now. 

“ If you should meet and settle with the general. Captain Davis 
will still be left.” 

“ Rivals enough to occupy me some time,” laughed Harry, with 
a playful glance at Ina. 

“You will find both dangerous ones, Yank,” Dick Whitney 
said. 

“ I don’t want to see General Noble any more. The jig is up, I 
expect. He'll have to look elsewhere for a wife. Ina, Ina, 1 didn’t 
think I was raising you for this. 

“ There, Dick, time will make all things even.” 

“ It can’t. There can never be peace between North and South. 
There will henceforth be two flags on this continent. Ina, you and 
your Yankee friends will never see peace with only one flag over 
the last battlefield. I’m an unadulterated rebel, a Simon pure 
Confed. I hate everything Yankee excepting you, Ina. I couldn’t 
hate you if you despised Dick Whitney.” 

“ A thousand thanks,” cried the fair young girl. “ War cau sep- 
arate us politically, Dick, but it can never draw the line of hate 
between us since I know what you did that wild night [.along the 

003'S^ 

The next instant the report of a musket broke the tableau that 
stood revealed by the little swamp fire, and every one sprung up. 

Dick Whitney was also on his feet, for Ina’s knife had severed hie 
bonds, giving him liberty for the story he had just told. 

“We ar’ attacked, Massa Hilton,” cried the darky, who had not 
spoken since the beginning of Dick’s narrative, and, with the last 
word on his lips, he started forward with cocked revolver and eyes 
on fire. 

“ Here,” said Hilton, as he thrust a weapon into Dick’s hands. 
“ If it comes to a swamp battle, you may want to fight,” 

“ By my soul ! I will, and it shall be for Ina, too,” 


90 


FORT FISHER. 


A short silence followed the musket-shot, and then the report of 
Gump’s revolver was heard. 

“ 1 got one ob ’em !” cried the sable champion, as he reappeared 
at the lire with triumphant eyes. “ Dar war two or three of ’em — 
de same fellars what got away from de house. Massa Dick Whit- 
ney, what did ole Gump tell you not long ago?” 

Before an answer could be given Ina threw herself between the 
negro and the man toward whom he had stepped with blazing 
orbs. 

De time hab come, rebel Dick !” he went on. “Dar are welts 
on Gump’s back. Who put ’em dar? De daysHob nigger whippin’ in 
Norf Car’line ar’ ober. Massa Linkum say no mo’ chains, no mo’ 
whips, an dar shall be none foreber mo’ in de Souf. Dick Whit- 
ney, ole Gump’s been bidin’ his time. Him been layin’ up wrath 
fo’ de day what war bound ter come. De stripes on his back burn 
as do’ dey war bein’ washed in brine. Stan’ back, Missa Ina. De 

S ast hab been Dick Whitney’s day ; de present am de Lord’s an’ 
ump’s.” 

“Not here!” and Ina with an unexpected display of strength 
forced the vengeful negro back. “ He has saved my life. You 
shall not take his while I am here.” 

“Let him come on, girl,” grated Dick Whitney, eying Gump, 
madly. “If he kills me Fort Fisher will lose one defender to-mor-* 
row— that’s all.” 

Gump drew back. 

“ Ar’ youse goin’ dar ter fight, Massa Dick ?” he asked. 

“ I am.” 

“ Den we’ll meet dar to-morrow,” was the reply, and the loyal 
black stepped back and let his clinched hands drop bloodless at his 
side. 

“To-morrow, Ina,” said Whitney, holding out his hand to the 
girl, “ to-morrow I fight for the first time under the crimson bars. 
We shall never meet again.” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE GREAT ASSAULT. 

The morning of January 14 dawned fair and almost cloudless, 
and everybody expected that it would witness a fierce attack on 
Fort Fisher and its defenses. 

General Whiting was prepared for the assault. 

He wanted the agony over as soon as possible, and then belonged 
to show General Terry that he had under him men who could 
fight. 

But the boys in blue were not to be hurled Rgainst the fort in 
storming columns that winter day. 

During the night of the thirteenth General Terry had advanced 
his lines to the first important positions he desired them to oc- 
cupy. 

Before daybreak on the fourteenth, the Union troops fell to work 
with intrenching tools, and by eight o’clock had thrown up a line 
of breastworks across the peninsula from ocean to river. 

This breastwork was partially covered by abattis, and looked 
very formidable to the rebels who gazed at it from the ramparts 
of the fort. 

The troops were not permitted to pursue their work unmo- 
lested. 

The rebel gunboat Chickamauga, stationed in the river, opened 
upon them in a lively manner, and for awhile spread death among 
the besiegers. 

Not until a battery of thirty-pound Parrotts was constructed on 
the bank was the destructive fire of the rebel gunboat checked, 


FORT FISHER. 

and then she drew off sullenly, showing the grinning muzzles of 
her guns to the foe 

Having completed the breastworks across the Neck, General 
Terry made a reconnoisance in person to within six hundred yards 
of Fort Fisher. 

He then decided that an attempt should be made to carry the 
works by assault on the following day, provided that Admiral 
Porter would undertake to destroy the palisades which crossed the 
peninsula fifty feet in advance of the fort. 

Without the entire or partial destruction of th^alisades the 
assaulting column could not hope for success, and Terry had de- 
termined not to risk the lives of his men in what might be termed 
the charge of a forlorn hoj)e. 

“ I will attend to the palisades,” said the old admiral, promptly, 
in response to Terry’s interrogative. “ Get ready for the assault.” 

“ Then, sir,” was the answer, “ Fort Fisher will be taken.” 

All through the fourteenth, while the troops labored in the in- 
trenchment, the fieet kept up a terrible fire. 

Dark, sulphurous clouds hung over the mighty ships of war, ob- 
scuring them from the eyes of the spectators. 

The very sea seemed to tremble under the reports of their 
tremendous guns as they belched forth shot and shell which fell 
like hail into the rebel fort, or went crashing through the palisades 
as though they were shingles. 

All day from early dawn till dark that thunderous bombardment 
went on. 

The sun went down upon the scene and night once more spread 
her sable wings over land and sea, but the cannon of the fieet did 
not cease. 

They had got the range of the fort to an exactness which en- 
abled them to fire with effect, and the rebels, who had been driven 
to the casemates, heard the iron globes strike and explode with 
dark forebodings for the morrow. 

During the day just passed both the Union and Confederate 
forces had received reinforcements. 

These reinforcements were not formidable in numbers, but they 
brought fearless and determined hearts to the two armies. 

“ I report for duty,” said a young man, addressing the colonel 
of a regiment in General Curtis’ brigade, then in the Union 
trenches. 

“ Back again, Hilton ?” was the ejaculation. “ By the stars ! I am 
glad to see you. Where’s the Beauty of the Neck ?” 

“Safe among those guns yonder,” and Hilton pointed toward 
Porter’s fleet. “ I have brought back with me a reinforcement in 
ebony, my black friend Gump, who will fight with the colored 
troops to-morrow.” 

Harry Hilton, who had thus mad^his way back to his command, 
was cordially welcomed by his colonel who knew his worth, and 
he went to his fpost of duty with a soldier’s step, eager for the 
bloody work premised for the next day. 

On the other hand, the rebel troops in Fort Fisher were joined 
by a man whose appearance occasioned no remark. 

Hardly anybody noticed him as he quietly took up a position be- 
hind one of the traverses, with a musket firmly clutched by his 
hands, and fire in his deep, dark eyes. 

“ Well, I’m here in the same fort with you, Captain Davis,” he 
said to himself. “To-morrow I will show the Yankees that Dick 
Whitney is not afraid to fight for the new flag.” 

All night Porter’s ironclad armada kept up the fire which had 
slacked but little since earliest dawn. 

The flashes and roar of the great guns were interminable, an0 


92 


FORT FISHER. 


the fiery trail of the sheets was constantly visible as they hissed 
across the path of night. 

The troops in the trenches got but little sleep through the excit- 
ing watches of that January gloom. 

Every moment shells and solid shot passed screaming over their 
heads to fall beyond the rebel ramparts, and to keep sleep from 
the eyes of the soldiers crouching there. 

The fateful day came at last. 

Slowly the sun climbed up and looked through a canopy of bat- 
tle smoke upon the scenes that presented themselves on land and 
sea. 

At nine o’clock a signal sent the line of battle-ships again to a 
vigorous attack on the rebel batteries, and once more the crash of 
artillery became deafening. 

Fast and furious the upper batteries of the Confederates replied 
to the galling fire of the combined fleets, but effected little dam- 
age. 

Covered by the fire of the fleet, sixteen hundred sailors, armed 
with keen-edged cutlasses and revolvers, with .four hundred ma- 
rines, to act as sharpshooters, all led by Fleet-captain Breese, 
worked their way by digging rifle-pits to within two hundred 
yards of the fort, and rested on their arms to await the signal for 
the assault. 

It was expected that General Hoke’s division of the rebel array 
which was demonstrating from Wilmington would attack a part 
of the besieging force, therefore Paine’s division and Abbott’s 
brigade were kept in the breastworks that crossed the Neck for 
the purpose of meeting the threatened attack. 

Ames’ division had been selected to make the real assault, and 
the brigades of Curtis, Pennypacker, and Bell were well intrenched 
and eager for the signal. 

Minutes seemed hours to the men of both armies. 

All knew that the assault would prove one of the bloodiest on 
record, but the Union troops were as determined to take the fort 
as the rebels were to drive them back with terrible slaughter. 

At two o’clock in the afternoon, Curtis’ men double-quicked un- 
der a brisk Are to within flve hundred yards of the fort, where 
they made shallow trenches and dropped on their faces. 

Penny pack came up to the position last vacated by Curtis, and 
Bell’s troops took position two hundred yards in his rear. 

At a quarter past three the order reached Ames to set his gallant 
bluecoats in motion, and Porter was signaled to direct the fire of 
his fleet away from the men. 

Everything was in readiness now. 

“ Forward!” rung out loud and clear along the Union lines. 

At the word, and with an eager cheer, Curtis’ men sprung up 
from their last trench and dashed forward. 

What if they met a galling Are of musketry and artillery full in 
the face? 

What if the ground they were compelled to tread was marshy 
and full of suck holes? 

The line never wavered, the bluecoats never faltered. 

On, through that terrible hailstorm of lead and iron, straight to- 
ward the parapets and the flag that floated in defiance above 
them. 

It was the most gallant assault of the whole war. 

The heroism of the men behind the rebel ramparts could not 
check that brave brigade, each member of which seemed to have 
registered above a vow to conquer or die. 

They reached the shot-shattered palisades, but behind them lay 
a line of dead pien. 


FORT FISHER. 93 

They broke through the obstruction despite the front and enfilad- 
ing fire to which they were exposed, and sealed the parapet. 

At the same time the sailor column under Fleet-captain Breese 
was rushing upon the northeast bastion. 

Suddenly the men were assailed by a murderous fire of grape and 
canister which swept them away by hundreds. 

In spite of this, however, the heroes of the fleet reached the 
ditch, some of them even gained the parapet, but the terrible 
resistance of the enemy could not be withstood. 

Back went the sailors, who might have succeeded if marines had 
properly supported them, and the retreat soon became a precipi- 
tate route from which they could not be rallied by their officers. 

Cheer after cheer went up from Confederate throats when the 
sailor column fell back shattered and routed. 

This attack had been made from the sea, and the Confederates 
thought it the main one of the day, but while they cheered their 
success, they were suddenly undeceived for the land troops were 
entering the fort behind them I 

Scarcely had Curtis’ brigade reached the parapet, ere Penny- 
packer was sent to his support, and the two brigades pushed for- 
ward to their left, and by the most gallant fighting drove the 
enemy from much of the land face. 

Then Colonel Bell’s brigade dashed up between fort and river, 
and fell bravely upon the enemy protected by cavities in the sand 
and behind magazines and traverses, which they held with a stub- 
borness that deserved success. 

Desperate indeed was the fighting at this juncture of the assault. 

The men fought hand to hand, and foe grappled with foe in the 
waning light of the winter day. 

Back and forth over the rifle-pits they contended like tigers for 
the mastery, and over the traverses fired at point blank range into 
each other’s faces. 

Everywhere the Union troops displayed a desperate valor which 
commanded victory. 

They were not to be driven back. 

Nine traverses successively fell into their hands. 

They had been forced back under Butler, but under the gallant 
-Terry they were to advance to triumph ! 

Curtis, Bell and Pennypacker went down before the muskets of 
the foe, but their men fought on with an ardor which no disaster 
could dampen. 

All the time the fleet .thundered against portions of the works 
not yet attacked. 

It was the carnival of war, the harvest of death, the triumph of 
destruction. 

Harry Hilton, in the advance of Curtis’ men was among the first 
to reach the parapet. 

With sword in air, hat lost, and face blackened with gunpowder, 
he seemed a young Ney as he led his company into the thickest of 
the fight and cheered the soldiers with his bravery. 

Once he was hurled from a traverse, but quickly regained his 
feet, and despite the arm which hung limp and bloody at his side 
swept again to the assault. 

Night came, but the work went on. 

In the flashes of their guns, foe met foe, and cheer encountered 
cheer over the blood stained parapets of Fort Fisher. 

Never before on American soil had such a conflict taken place. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE BLUECOATS WIN. 

“ Who will follow me?” exclaimed a hatless young soldier. 


94 


FORT FISHER. 


placing himself at the head of a number of Union troops who had 
been forced back by the decimating fire of the rebel riflemen be- 
hind a traverse which had almost been carried. 

“ Every mother’s son of us, Hilton!” was the quick response. 
“ You have but to lead us and the traverse is ours.” 

“ Forward, then! We take the point this time, my brave lads, 
or die at its foot! Long live the Union ! Forward ! forward !” 

It was night, but the flashes of the muskets that blazed in the 
faces of the assaulting party showed them the traverse which 
seemed impregnable. 

With a wild cheer, the powder-grimed bluecoats dashed after 
their young leader, who did not look back to see whether he was 
followed, but rushed straight into the jaws of death, excitement 
in his eyes, and his sword poised above his head. 

Every rifle along the Confederate parapet seemed to single out 
the little detachment for destruction, and a sheet of flame leaped 
agaidst the breasts of the members, but the heroes never fal- 
tered. 

Harry Hilton, their leader, was the first to reach the traverse. 
The flash of rebel guns burned his cheeks as he gained the 
height, with several hundred yelling, cheering men at his back. 

The hand to hand engagement that ensued was terrible in the 
extreme. 

Men fought in the incessant musket flashes with clubbed guns 
and revolvers, and prisoners were taken and rescued every minute. 

Ah ! I have you at last !” suddenly exclaimed a rebel oflicer, as 
he leaped at Hilton, and threw him back. “ I’ve been lookins for 
you since the first ^un, Hilton. What ! don’t you know me ? I’m 
Captain Duke Davis.” 

What ! that powder blackened, wild looking man the handsome, 
scheming Captain Davis, the impetuous lover of Ina, and General 
Noble’s rival and slayer? 

Hilton could scarcely credit the evidence of sight, yet the men- 
tion of the name in the tones it was spoken, told him that he 
faced his rival. 

They had met just as the Confederates were yielding the traverse 
to the Union troops; but the hand to hand fight was still raging 
around them. 

“ You’re the last one, Harry Hilton,” continued Davis before the 
young Unionist could reply. ‘‘I’ve brushed the general aside, if 
he did get out of his shallow grave and come back to die in my 
quarters. You shan’t surrender to me. I don’t want your sword, 
but your life!” 

The revolver in the demon Confederate’s hand was thrust into 
Hilton’s face, and the hand that leaped at his throat pushed him 
bapk, back over dead and dying men. 

“Die! that I may win the game I’ve played against fate!” hissed 
Captain Davis. “ I will tell Ina that you died in our trenches when 
I see her. Ha, ha!” 

The laugh was that of a fiend, and while it rose demoniacally 
above the roar of the tumultuous fight raging round them, Hilton 
strove to save his own life. 

“ I have you, Hilton! I ” 

The rebel captain’s sentence was broken by the men who rushed 
between the rivals at that moment. 

In an instant they were wrenched apart and flung by the surg- 
ing tide of battle in opposite directions. 

The young Unionist almost instantly recovered. 

“Make that ofiBcer prisoner. Don’t kill him,” he exclaimed, 
rushing toward the soldiers who were about to make quick work 
of the oflicer firing upon them with a revolver. 

It was too late. 


J'OltT FtSHEK. i)5 

Hilton’s voice was not heard above the thunderous uproar, or, if 
heard, not obeyed. 

With fixed bayonets the maddened Yankees rushed upon the 
Confederate captain, and when Hilton reached the spot he was 
pinned to the ground. 

“This is war, Hilton,” he said looking up into our hero’s face as 
he ordered the soldiers back. “You’ve got only Dick Whitney to 
meet now He’s somewhere in the fort. I’ve played my game to 
the end, and the end is death!” 

In another moment it was all over with Duke Davis, of Fort 
Fisher fame. 

General Noble’s prophecy had been fulfilled. 

The Union troops had avenged him. 

After the fal; of Captain Davis, the fight for the fort and its tra- 
verses went on with unabated vigor. 

This struggle, which had continued since sundown, was kept up 
until nine o’clock, when Abbott’s brigade drove the rebels from 
their last strongholds and forced them southward over the blood- 
drenched sand toward Federal Point. 

Then the Twenty-seventh Regiment of colored troops, under 
General Blackman, assisted by Abbott and his gallant men, stormed 
down to Battery Buchanan, where, after a stubborn little fight, 
the garrison, including Generals Whiting and Lamb, surrendered. 


“I got him, massa,” said a negro, halting before Hilton as the 
latter was surveying the prisoners and listening to the cheers that 
rose on every side. 

“Got who?” inquired the young soldier, not recognizing the 
darky, who was clad in a new suit of blue. 

“ Why, Dick Whitney, Massa Hilton. He’ll nebber lash old Gump 
agin wid de cat.” 

“ Heavens I where is he, Gump ?” 

“Ober dar,” said the negro, pointing away. 

“ Show me the spot.” 

The negro did so, and Hilton soon knelt over the body of a man 
who had received a terrible wound in the breast. 

It was Dick Whitney ; not dead, but seemingly near to the somber 
tent whose curtain never outward swings. 

“Well, Hilton? A bayonet for twenty-five lashes,” he mur- 
mured. “ Mebbe it’s all fair, after all. If I could live to settle 
with the man who killed the general ” 

“He’s dead now, Dick,” interrupted Hilton. 

Instantly the Carolinian’s eyes kindled and his gripe on Hilton’s 
wrist suddenly tightened. 

“Dead! dead!” he exclaimed. “Then I’m ready to follow- We’ve 
all lost the game, Hilton. Tell Ina that Dick’s last thought 
was of her. Mebbe, after all, it was best for her to stick to the old 
flag. 

“ I will tell her, Dick.” 

“ I don’t care if she did turn Yank for all my raising,” and Dick 
Whitney smiled. “ It was in the book, and had to be just that way. 
Tell her, too ” 

The voice died away to a whisper, and Hilton lowered his ear to 
the dying man’s lips. 

“ Tell her— tell Not now, Hilton. I’m— dead!” 

And dead he was, with his head pillowed in the hollow of the arm 
of the man he would have hung. 

Gump, the negro, looked at the dead a moment and turned 
away. 

“ Dat’s what he got fo’ de lashes. Ole Gump am a Linkum sojer 
now. He hab to kill rebels whareber he finds ’em.” 


PORT FISHER. 


9(5 

The bravery of the bluecoats had caused the fall of Fort Fisher. 

The terrible assault had cost Porter and Terry more than one 
thousand heroic men, including some gallant officers who could 
not well be spared by the service. 

The prizes, beside the fort itself,consisted in the main of seventy- 
five guns, thousands of small arms, and more than two thousand 
prisoners. 

That night the fieet illuminated and otherwise celebrated the 
glorious victory, and cannon answered cannon across the water in 
tones of jubilation, and the flashes of the great euns as they cutthe 
veil of night with swords of fire, were answered by cheer after 
cheer from the troops on land. 

On the sixteenth the rebels blew up and abandoned all then 
other works in the vicinty, thus removing “ the last obstacle to a 
complete command of the entrances of Cape Fear River.*’ 

The task assigned to Terry and Porter by Grant had been ac- 
complished, and in a manner that covered the army and navy 
with imperishable glory. 

The way to Wilmington was now practically open, for the rebel 
strongholds on the peninsula had formed the key to it, and a few 
weeks later the tread of the bluecoats was heard in the streets of 
the Carolinian city. 

When Harry Hilton rejoined Grant in front of Petersburg he 
was promoted, receiving his new rank at the hands of Grant him- 
self, an honor which he had bravely won 

He remained in the service till the close of the war, when, as a 
matter of course, gentle reader, he led Ina to the altar 

It was discovered that our heroine, instead of being rebel Dick 
Whitney’s cousin, was the lost child of a well-known soldier in the 
Union army, and thus after many years and strange adventures, 
she was returned to her father’s arms. 

Gumption Cute wore the blue until honorably mustered out 
after whieh event he located in Georgia, where he still narrates t6 
gaping groups of sable listeners his adventures on the Fort Fisher 
peninsula. 

The reappearance of General Noble in Captain Davis’ quarters 
the night after the hasty duel has been explained by the discovery 
that the general was not dead when buried, but that he came to 
his senses in the shallow grave, found his way out, and invaded 
his rival’s presence to terrify him out of his wits, and to die with 
a singular prophecy on his lips. 

Reader, we feel satisfied that we can end our story here, having 
witnessed the complete triumph of love and loyality, as well as 
the clearing of the way to Wilmington by the boys in blue over 
the bloody ramparts of Fort Fisher, so heroically defended by the 
brave lovers of the Lost Cause. 

All honor to Terry’s gallant men, and Porter’s heroic tars! 

[THE END.] 


THE WAR LIBRARY 

Contains Historic Tales of tlie AVar for tlie Union. Original, full of 
life, flaring aclventfires, love, intrigue and patriotism. — 

The Unwritten History of the War. 

Historically true, as to dates and occurrences ; graphically true as regards possibilities, 
these tales will interest as w'ell as entertain the reader. To the veteran, who will light his 
battles over between the lines, as w'ell as the rising generation, ever eager to read of deeds of 
patriotism and heroism, this Library will be a welcome visitor. 

Tlie AV nr Uibrary is issued w’eekly, complete in each number. Fresh and original, 
it occupies a new field, and is free from ultra partisanship. Price, ten cents a copy. 


CATALOGUE OF THE WAR LIBRARY. 


1— MAK)R HOTSPUR. By Marline Manly. 

2— BLUE OR GRAY. By Ward Edwards, 

“ High Private,” U. S. V. 

3— CAVALRY SAM. By Capt. Mark Wilton. 

4— ON TO RICHMOND. ByMaj.A. F. Grant. 

5 — VICKSBURG. By Corp. Morris Hoyne. 

6— SHILOH. By Ward Edwards, U. S. V. 

7— BULLET AND BAYONET. By Capt. Mark 

Wilton. 

8— SHARPSHOOTER DICK. By Major A. F. 

Grant. 

9— PRISON PEN. By Marline Manly. 

10— BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, By Corporal 

Morris Hoyne. 

11— BEFORE DONELSON. By Edgar L. 

Vincent. 

12— SOLD FOR A SOLDIER. By Ward Ed- 

wards, “ High Private,” U. S. V. 

13— TRUE BLUE. By Maj. A. F. Grant. 

14— CROSSED SWORDS. By Corp. Morris 

Hoyne. 

15— FIGHTIvri ''''.T. By Bernard Wavde 

16— UNDER TWO FLAGS. By Morris Red- 

wing. 

17— STARS AND STRIPES. By Major Hugh 

Warren. 

18— BATTLE ECHOES. By Major Walter 

Brisbane. 

19— CANNONEER BOB. By Maj. A. F. Grant. 

20— BATTLE BEN. By Morris Redwiua. 

21— SHOULDER-STRAPS. By Major Walter 

Wilmot. 

22— SEVEN PINES. By Warren Walters. 

23— SABER AND SPUR. By Mon Myrtle. 

24— FIGHTING FOR FAME. By Morris Red- 

wing. 

25— DASHING O^DONOHOE. By Lieutenant 

Carlton. 

26— IRON AND STEEL. By Maj. A. F. Grant. 

27— THE FATAL CARBINE. By Maj. Walter 

Wilmot. 

28— MALVERN HILL. By Corporal Morris 

Hoyne. , 

29— GUNBOAT DAVE. By Morris Redw ing. 

30— RIVAL CAPTAINS. By Colonel Oram , 

Eflor. I 

31— HARD TACK. By Maj. Waller Brisbme. 

32 -YANKEE STEVE. By Morris Redwing. I 


! 33 — FARRAGUT’S SPY. By Maj. A. F. Grant. 

34— MISSION RIDGE. By Maj. Walter Wil- 

mot. 

35— CHAIN SHOT. By Col. Oram Efior. 

36 — FIVE FORKS. By Corp. Morris Hoyne. 

37— CAPTAIN IRONWRIST. By Maj. Walter 

Wilmot. 

; 38-THE LOST CAUSE. By Morris Red- 
! wing. 

i 39— CAMP FIRES. By Warren Walters. 

40-M0RGAN’S ROUGH RIDERS. By Major 
A. F. Grant. 

I 41-BETWEEN THE LINES. By Morris 
, Redwing. 

: 42~THE CAVALRY GUIDE. By John W. 

' Southard. 

43-HARPER’S FERRY. By Major Walter 
Wilmot. 

' 44-SHERIDAN’S RIDE. By Roland Dare. 

' 45— CLEAR GRIT. By Marline Manly. 

I 46— THE RIVAL COURIERS. By Harry St. 
George. 

47— BEFORE PETERSBURG. By Major A. 

F. Grant. 

48— DOWN IN DIXIE. By Hugh Allen, of 

the New' York press. 

49— LIBBY PRISON. By Col. Oram Efior. 

50— WAR’S ALARM. By Morris Redwing. 

51— UNDER FIRE. By Anthony P. Morris. 

52— MARCHING ON.— By Marline Manly. 

53— SWORD AND SASH. By Mon Myrtle. 

54— BORDER GUERILLAS. By Corporal 

M. Hoyne. 

55— MOSBY’S TRAIL. By Morris Redwing. 
58-BLACK CUDJO. By Lieut. Keene, U.S.A. 

57— BRAVE COLONEL KELLY. By Bernard 

Wayde. 

58— ISLAND NUMBER TEN. By S. M. Fra- 

zier. 

59— WINNING HIS SPURS. By Morris Red- 

Aving. 

60— A YANKEE MIDDY By Ward Edwards, 

“ High Private,” U.S. V. 

61— COLD HARBOR. By Roland Dare. 

62— FIGHTING JOE HOOKER, By Marline 

Manly. 

63— BOMB PROOF. By Anthony P. Morris. 


For sale by all New'sdealers in the United States. Subscription price, $5.00 a year; 
single copy, by mail, ten cents. Address, 

NOVELIST PUBLISHING CO., 

18 & 20 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK. 


’CATAIOGUE POCKET EDITION 

OF THE 

WAR LIBRARY. 


No. 1. THE WAR DETECTIVE; or, TUe Plotters at Wash- 
ington. A Tale of Booth’s Conspiracy. By Maj. A; F. Grant. 


No. a. BATTL.E SMOKE ; or, The War Correspondent among 
Guerillas. A Thrilling Tale of Perryville and Stone River. By Hugh 
Allen, of the N. Y. Press. 


No. 3. UNDER THE STARS AND BARS; or, A Wearing of 
the Gray. A Thrilling Story of Tennessee. By Mon Myrtle. 


//No. 4. ODD FUSEE; or. The Cannoneer's Bast Shot. A Story 
of Antietara. By Anthony P. Morris. 


4 No. 5. IjOYAIj NED ; or. The Cruise of the Alabama. A Rattling 
Romance of the famous Rebel Privateer. By Maj. A. F. Grant. 


No. 6. FREDERICKSBCIIG: or. The Great Tunnel at Dibby. 

A Story of Battlefield and Prison Pen. By Aleck Forbes, War Corre- 
spondent. 


No. 7. BUUNT POWDER; or. The Young Army Detective. 

A Tale of the Slaughter at Spottsylvania. By Anthony P. Morris. 


No. 8. A NIGHT IN DIXIE; or, Kilpatrick’s Ride to Rich- 
mond. A Startling Tale of a Famous Raid. By J. M. Merrill. 


No. 9. PITTSBURG BANDING; or. Adventures of a Young 
Volunteer. Bj" Duke Duncan, of the Ohio Volunteer Infantry. 


.*..^No. 10. PORT FISHER; or. The Thunder of Siege Guns. A 

^ ‘ Story of the Great Bombardment. By Maj. A. F. Grant. 


No. 11. THE SHENANDOAH RIDER ; or. Stonewall .Jackson’s 
Dispatch Bearer. A Stirring Adventure during the War in Virginia. 
J'y Anihony P. Morris. Ready Dec. 12,'^188.3. 


For ftnle In/ all Xotvs'lenlers in the United States, Subscription 
price, $/i,00 a. year ; situjle copy, htf mail, ten cents. Address, 

NOVELIST PUBLISHING CO., 

Nos. 18 & 20 Rose Street, New York. 


9 - 





LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



0 001 268 484 8 


C 





